Beyond the Realms of Reverie: A Girl in Ferelden
by Ella SilverDewDrop
Summary: A fortune teller foresees blood and darkness in Diora Starr's future on her 18th birthday. When Uldred uses an Eluvian to summon the modern-day girl into Thedas and use her as a living sacrifice, she embarks on an epic quest to find a way back home. What destiny awaits her? And what of the growing love she has for the Grey Warden Alistair? Rated M for future content. Expect some AU
1. Prologue

_**AN: **Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in! __**Beyond the Realms of Reverie: A Girl in Ferelden**, focuses on a girl named Diora, who is literally whisked away into Thedas through the Eluvian. I wanted to model the story in the fashion of a high fantasy fairy tale, in the styles akin to **Spirited Away**, **Alice in Wonderland**, and **The Chronicles of Narnia**. In the words of Hayao Miyazaki, "It's not a story in which the characters grow up, it's a story in which they they draw on the strengths they already have inside them, brought out by the particular circumstances."_

_Expect lots of adventure and romance. It's going to be epic! =) I invite you to follow and thank you for your support and patience as the chapters get revised and posted. __I appreciate all reviews, constructive criticism, and suggestions readers have to make. __After all, if you don't review it, how do I know if you like it?_

_And thank the Maker for Bioware, the creators of Dragon Age, Alistair, and the rest of the characters we love and care so much about (or hate, for that matter)._

* * *

**Prologue**

**A Lonely Boy and His Wish**

A young lad, no more than ten years of age, slowly stirred from his slumber on a soft bed of hay. He brushed aside the thick wool blanket and yawned rather languorously, only to huddle back in the blanket's warmth as the cold nipped at him. His still sleepy eyes stared lazily down through a streaky glass paned window and into the grey morning light.

From his high vantage point in the Arl's hayloft, he could make out the entire village of Redcliffe, nestled in the red hills and cradled by the gently lapping waters of Lake Calenhad. A chilly late autumn wind swept across the lake through the village, carrying with it the mingling scents of smoke and hay, dead leaves and fish brine. Though the sun's rays had not yet broken through the eastern horizon, the horses were already stirring in their stalls. An old barn owl, satiated after a successful night of hunting, hooted softly and rustled its feathers before perching on a rustic ceiling beam to slumber for the day.

An ordinary observer would have seen a young urchin boy, more often covered in mud than not. He was garbed in a thin, tattered, yellowed white shirt and a worn out pair of tan, patched-up breeches. He had a small, dust-streaked face and a head of untidy blond hair. His lips were wide, and so were his eyes, which looked like ambered honey in some lights and moods and deep hazel brown in others.

A keen extraordinary observer might have seen that beneath the smudges of dirt, the forehead was broad and full; that as they awakened, the big eyes were intelligent but full of mixed longing and sadness, as though the boy was earnestly and hopelessly searching for something. His wide lips were now pursed in displeasure; a wide and pronounced chin jutted out as though in defiance.

The boy groaned in dismal spirit as he recalled his meeting with Arl Eamon in the study the evening prior. It just wasn't fair! He was being shipped off to the nearest monastery in two days, and all because of Arlessa Isolde.

"I think it will suit you. Training to become a templar will not be as terrible as you believe, Alistair. Here, you can never be anything. And should anyone find out who you truly are, you will become a threat to Ferelden. Within the Chantry and as a templar, you will have a place, somewhere you can belong. My decision is final, Alistair."

But what the Arl had stated was true. Alistair had no place in this world: no mother, no father, and no other family, for all practical purposes. He was all alone. He didn't belong to anyone or anywhere. Arl Eamon was a kind enough man, but his loyalties were to Ferelden and that odious and obnoxious Lady Isolde whom he had married, and she hated Alistair. Rumors had pegged Alistair as Eamon's bastard son, and although they weren't true, Lady Isolde believed in them enough to be threatened by the boy.

As Alistair sat there staring out the window and contemplating his unfortunate lot in life, his gaze fell upon a lone star, a twinkling yellow sparkle of light in the eastern skies. Of course Alistair had seen it before, but he'd never really paid any attention to it until now.

Its common name was The Golden Star, but scholars had a high name for it, which the lad couldn't quite remember at the moment. Its appearance signified the changing of seasons: autumn to winter and spring to summer. It appeared only during the early predawn hours of the winter and summer seasons, after the moon and most of the other stars had set and before the bright rays of the sun arose. This morning, it was the lone star in the sky

"The Stupid Lonely Star is more like it. What's so special about this one? It's alone with no other stars… Alone, just like me," Alistair grumbled miserably. Something about the star continued to hold his attention. "But...I wonder if it feels like me, too. Lost and lonely and always wishing for a better tomorrow?" he mused.

The tiny golden diamond in the sky winked brightly back at him, as though responding to his question with an encouraging smile. Alistair suddenly had the oddest prickling feeling in his stomach that the star somehow understood what he was saying and thinking. Silly, he knew, but he immediately regretted calling it stupid earlier. Then, to his surprise, he suddenly realized he didn't feel as terribly lonely now as he did before. His lips smiled gently up at the burning dot of light, but a small, unspoken wish still wrenched his young heart.

"If only…"

* * *

_**AN:** So what's up with the star? I love symbolism and recurring themes. This story will have lots of references to those little twinkling celestial object that dots our night skies. I thought I would make it a personal challenge to try to include the word "star" at least once in every chapter, kind of like Psych (love that tv show, so sad it's over! T_T) and the elusive pineapple. I dunno, we'll see it I'm up to the task._

_Dear readers, what did you think? Reviews are always appreciated. If you feel like sending a nastygram, then please have the courtesy to do so in a pm._


	2. Bloody Fortunes & Ominous Reflections

_**AN: **Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in! __**Beyond the Realms of Reverie: A Girl in Ferelden**, focuses on a girl named Diora, who is literally whisked away into Thedas through the Eluvian. I wanted to model the story in the fashion of a high fantasy fairy tale, in the styles akin to **Spirited Away**, **Alice in Wonderland**, and **The Chronicles of Narnia**. In the words of Hayao Miyazaki, "It's not a story in which the characters grow up, it's a story in which they they draw on the strengths they already have inside them, brought out by the particular circumstances."_

_I invite you to follow and thank you for your support and patience as the chapters get revised and posted. __I appreciate all reviews, constructive criticism, and suggestions readers have to make._

_And thank the Maker for Bioware, the creators of Dragon Age, Alistair, and the rest of the characters we love and care so much about (or hate, for that matter)._

**_Chapter 1 introduces our main character, who is from the present-day world, and lays the foundation for her adventures and destiny in Thedas! Alistair makes his debut in Chapter 2!_**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Bloody Fortunes and Ominous Reflections**

Diora Starr never knew what fate really had in store for her. She had her passions and her dreams, and like every normal teenage girl, her life was full of hopes and worries and exhilaration. And she was ever always the practical and proper child: the teacher's pet, the straight A-student, the apple of her parents' eyes, the overachiever who always carried herself with dignified confidence. With the exception of a few close friends, everyone else her age thought she was a snob. Impulse was not something Diora did often. Diora liked to plan, and she liked it when things went according to plan.

Unfortunately, books about proper, snobby people are rather dull, so our story begins with a rare act of impulse of our heroine's part.

Like a shattered mirror, everything in Diora's perfectly planned life began to fall apart after that. However, unlike a broken reflection in pieced-together looking glass, the pieces of her life that Diora picked up after that great tragedy much more resembled a beautiful stained glass window, one that allowed light, love, and warmth to fill the darkness.

On her 18th birthday, Diora and her best friend Aerienne, who liked to be called Aeries, found themselves standing in front of a small, rather shabby looking fortune teller's shop. It was funny that Diora and Aeries could be best friends, since they were opposites in personalities. Aeries was a wild tomboy whose grades were mediocre - she wouldn't cry over an A- like Diora did. Aeries had an easygoing nature and went with the flow of things, and she would have made a good bully, were it not for Diora's diplomatic and calming presence. Then again, isn't there a saying about how opposites attract? They met in the sixth grade. Aeries, then a new student to the school, came across a group of girls bullying Diora in the lunchroom. After a few cuss words, spilled milk, and a trip to the principal's office, the two became fast friends and were inseparable. It was also the first, last, and only time Diora ever found herself in the principal's office for disciplinary action.

So it happened that the two friends found themselves in front of a small fortune teller's shop. It was Aeries who had been the practical voice of reason that night, spouting off a sermon about charlatans and how they gimmicked people for money. Diora, on the other hand, decided to "live it up a little," especially on her 18th birthday. For others Diora's age, "living it up" might have been sneaking into a bar or a club, getting high on drugs, kissing a boy for the first time, or stealing a car, even. For Diora, it was getting her fortune told.

This was the fortune that was told:

___"Clear your soul and listen to what I am about to tell you. The inevitable time is soon to come, be it for good or evil. Your spirit dances under the moon of uncertainty as your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon. Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood. ______The great power of the sacred blood within you will emerge. ______Fate will lead you to one who is destined to stand vigilant in the shadows, and he will be your savior. _"

And the rest is the story of how the Diora's destiny unfolded.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

It was one of those lovely late spring afternoons that had been granted a soft kiss of the pleasant summer to come. The sun's warmth and the cheerful peal of children's laughter enveloped the neighborhood in a delightful gentle air. One house along the street in particular was showered in a bridal flush of pinky-white blossoms, hummed over by a myriad of bees.

Unfortunately, for a certain girl in an upper bedroom of said house, the day was not quite so bright and cheerful. Her cell phone was flashing on her desk, indicating a missed message-or more like several ignored messages. An empty tub of butter pecan ice cream and stuffed animals were carelessly strewn about the floor. A half-eaten bag of sour-cream-and-onion potato chips crinkled underneath her as she flung herself across a soft bed in a state of malaise. She groaned wretchedly to herself and buried her face into her pillow. Despite her resolve, the dam holding back her wellspring of sadness cracked, and it was enough for tears to come crashing through.

A knock sounded at her bedroom door.

"Go away! I don't want to talk about it!" the young girl's muffled voice shouted at her visitor. She didn't care to lift her head. She just wanted to hide away in this room and wallow in her sorrow and misfortune.

"I don't care, Diora! The knock was just a courtesy. I'm coming in anyways!" sounded a rather authoritative voice from outside the door. The bedroom door swung open, and a waifish, boyish girl with a long face, very thin lips, and a sharp jawline and pointed chin assertively stepped into the room. Her pronounced features were softened by her very full brows and a wide, doe-eyed expression. She had starry sapphire eyes, which onlookers often mistook for violet, that sparkled with spirit and vivacity. Her ivory and rose-petal complexion was made even more translucent by her ebony hair, cropped in a _gamine_ style, which suited her childish tomboy appeal.

"What do you want, Aeries?" Diora raised her head and looked up at her friend. Though her blue-grey eyes lacked the striking sparkle of her friend's, they were quite conspicuous in their own way: usually very big and clear; full of a deep thoughtfulness that suited her sensible and grounded nature; they had at the moment clouded over and turned the color of a summer storm, which was typical when anything angered or worried her. Her features were softer and more rounded than her friend's; an oval face with delicate brows and a wide mouth that was perhaps a bit too full small jawline. She had a habit of biting her lips, and her nails, when she was nervous. A pink peony glow flushed upon her creamy complexion, and a pair of dimples appeared on her cheeks when she smiled or pursed her lips. Her long, flowing chocolate-colored hair was usually neatly tied back in a ponytail or twisted up into a bun.

Aeries detected the hint of annoyance in Diora's voice. She scoffed in mock offense and placed a hand across her chest. "Well! Excuse me for being worried about my dearest friend in the world and coming over to make sure she was still alive! You missed class today, and you never miss school-ever! And you've ignored all my calls and messages," she answered, her head swinging in tune to her voice with every word.

"I'm cursed, Aeries. I can't leave the house," Diora moaned. She sat up and reached for the nearby box of tissues on her desk. She blew her nose and then hugged the pillow close to her chest for comfort.

Aeries assertively walked over and plopped down on the bed next to her friend. "Sweetie, you are not cursed. You just got a rejection letter from Harvard. I know it's difficult for you, and I'm sorry, but you need to get over this," she said matter-of-factly.

"PLEASE don't talk about Harvard," Diora said forlornly.

Aeries gasped when her foot bumped into the empty ice cream carton on the carpeted floor beside the bed. "Ice cream! Wait-aren't you lactose intolerant?" Then her hand brushed up against the crumpled up foiled bag on the bed. "And potato chips!" she exclaimed. Aeries shook her head in wonder and suppressed a chuckle, though the laughter was evident in her sparkling sapphire eyes. "Girl, you are going to suffer for that later, I can assure you."

"I AM suffering already! And it's all because of that creepy fortune teller!" insisted Diora. "How would you feel if some scary old lady who smelled of musty old mothballs told you that there would be blood and darkness in your near future?! The more I think about it, the more freaked out I get, especially after everything that's happened!"

Aeries rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. "Really, Diora? Are we back to that? I thought you didn't believe in it." After listening to Diora gripe and moan about it the entire week, an intervention was in order. This was a change in pace for their friendship. Diora was usually the voice of reason, not her. Sure, her best friend was being hit with a spell of bad luck, but it was all coincidence, and she was going to help her friend see that.

"So you've had some close scrapes, but it's not because there's 'blood and darkness' in your future, Diora. And it's not the end of the world just because you didn't get accepted in Harvard. Didn't you also apply to Yale and Brown? You haven't heard from them yet," Aeries tried her best to sound optimistic.

"But Harvard was the one I really had my heart set on," grumbled Diora.

The courtesy "we sincerely wish you will find fulfillment at another fine school" note arrived in a small brown envelope by post just yesterday. That was just the last of a series of unfortunate events to happen to her since she turned 18 a week ago:

- There was that incident when she had choked on the salted caramel cheesecake at her own birthday dinner; the restaurant manager had to perform the heimlich maneuver on her.

- Then the accident that happened in her advanced chemistry class when the contents in her flask had spilled over and caught fire, nearly frying her eyebrows off.

- Her pet goldfish died.

- She'd seen a black cat while walking home from school two days ago and then at the shopping mall later that night, she tumbled down a flight of escalators-escalators! They were even scarier than stairs! In addition to the scrapes and bruises, she also had 4 stitches on her knee.

And it had all started with that fateful trip to the fortune teller's shop. She didn't believe it at first, and thought the old woman was making a cruel joke or that she was a hoax. But after this past week… Diora shuddered as she recalled the fortune teller's beady black eyes and her weathered, wrinkled face. She could still see those gnarled hands hovering over the crystal ball. Musk, mothballs, and incense permeated her sense of smell. A low, raspy voice penetrated her thoughts,

_"The inevitable time is soon to come, be it for good or evil. Your spirit dances under the moon of uncertainty as your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon. Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood…"_

"It was that fortune teller…she practically predicted my death and cursed me," Diora concluded. "How else can you explain everything that's happened?"

"You are not cursed. It's just bad luck," Aeries tried to reassure her friend. Again. She stood up and clapped her hands, her voice now adopting a cheerful tone. "And if you really believe her, shouldn't you be a little more excited? Didn't she also predict that you would be rescued by your 'destined true love' or something?"

Diora gawked at her gamine-haired friend, her jaw dropping incredulously. "How—HOW— do you even interpret that from what that disturbing hag said?!"

"Fine, then what was it she said again?"

Diora set the pillow aside and adjusted herself, straightening her back and sitting tall. She cleared her throat before answering, "She said, _'Fate will lead you to one who is destined to stand vigilant in the shadows, and he will be your savior.'"_

"Of course that means there's a handsome guy in your future! Sounds romantic," Aeries concluded triumphantly.

Diora sighed and shook her head at her friend's suggestion. While Aeries had dated a few guys over the years, Diora herself had never had a boyfriend before, nor had she ever cared to have one. And she was happy in her state of singledom. It allowed her more time to focus on other, more important matters, like school and her future. Only now, her academic future was a bit murky, if the curse continued its course.

"Frankly, there's nothing remotely romantic about someone lurking in the shadows! Sounds more like I'm going to be kidnapped," retorted Diora.

Aeries reached down and placed her hands on her best friend's shoulders. She shook them gently and smiled, saying, "Diora, you need to be more positive, and-and get out in the sun! Don't mope away in here!" Her sapphire eyes lit up. "I know! Let's go on a trip this weekend! It will help take your mind off everything, and it'll be fun! We can have a girls' weekend at my mom and dad's lake house. I'll invite Lucy and Melissa, too. We'll redo your birthday celebration. I'll even place a special order for that salted caramel cheesecake you like so much!"

Diora's lips reluctantly twitched before turning into a small smile. "Fine. But if I drown or get hit by lightning or anything, it's your fault," she said, pointing her index finger at Aeries.

Just then, Diora's mom appeared outside her bedroom door. She was beaming, and holding something in her hand. "Honey, this came for you in the post today."

A white envelope. And it was big.

Diora was struck breathless. Her eyes slowly lit up when she saw it. The dark clouds lifted away and a sense of surreal elation filled her.

Her mom could barely contain her excitement in her voice when she added, "It's from Yale."

Aeries grinned. "I think this means that your streak of bad luck is over."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

That night, Diora restlessly tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Outside her window, the moon was a thin, crescent sliver and high up in the sky. Even so, the celestial object was still bright and beautiful tonight, enough to drop silver moonrays through the sheer lace curtains and illuminate her room in airy glow.

She sighed and glanced over at her alarm clock. It was a little past 1 o'clock in the morning. Her gaze shifted over to the tall, antique floor mirror standing on its easel across her room. She could see the reflection of the moon, its luminous glow dancing off the blossoms of the cherry tree outside her window. Something about the mirror seemed to be calling out to her. She pulled back the covers and walked over to it, staring at her reflection on it's moonlit surface.

"Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood," she whispered. Despite this evening's happy news about Yale, she couldn't shake off that lingering shadow of doubt that something terrible was about to happen…

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Somewhere, across the universe of space and time, Uldred gazed into the Eluvian mirror and observed the world that existed even beyond The Fade. It was through great difficulty that he had been able to acquire such a treasure and conceal it from the other mages and the templars. Though he had not yet completely mastered it, the Eluvian had allowed him to delve even more deeply into study of the dark arts and blood magic. The Ancient One in The Fade with which he communed had revealed to him this world free of chains and magical subjugation.

A world in which he could be a god.

Who could have thought that a world full of such wonders could be real? Even amongst the most devout mages in The Circle Tower, the whispered rumors of such a world existed. But that was all it had been—rumors.

Until now.

Ah, yes. And there she was: the key to his rise to ultimate power.

Her image rippled on the surface of the mirror as he caressed her slim, graceful neck. He imagined that the vulnerable, naked flesh there would feel as silky and warm as petals bathing under the gentle rays of the spring sun. He could almost feel her pulse, gently beating there, under the delicate curve of her jaw line. His eyes narrowed and turned cold as he envisioned himself ruthlessly ripping into that creamy column with his dagger.

Her blood: the Eluvian had revealed that it was the final ingredient he needed to achieve his dark curse and open a portal into her world. As the hot, red blood flowed freshly out of her dying body, his dream would be born to life.

Uldred watched silently as the girl in the vision stared back at him. It almost a shame, that such a beautiful, innocent creature should be sacrificed to fulfill his dark desires.

Almost.

"Soon, my little one, soon," he promised himself. Whispering into the girl's reflection, his black eyes met her blue-grey ones, "On the dawn after a moonless night, when the Golden Star in the eastern morning sky aligns with the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation."

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Congratulations!"

"What's all this?" Diora asked her parents and younger brother the following morning. She was pleasantly surprised at the feast awaiting her at the table when she came down for breakfast. All of her favorite breakfast foods: coffee éclairs, bourbon raisin bread, raspberry jam, crepes with Nutella spread, eggs benedict, honey smoked bacon (extra crisped), and an assortment of delectable fresh berries.

"We wanted to celebrate your acceptance into Yale University!" her mother beamed at her.

"We're so proud of you and the hard work you put into getting there. We know Harvard was your first choice, but Yale is still an accomplishment," her father added.

Her sixteen-year-old brother Teddy grabbed a slice of the bourbon raisin bread, and in between bites, said to her, "You'd better watch out! So many good things have been happening to you lately, you just might get struck by lightning or hit by a car or something," he teased her sarcastically. He, too, had not escaped from her complaining all week.

"Teddy! That's a terrible thing to say!" their father reprimanded.

"It's okay, Dad. He's been listening to me complaining all week," said Diora good-naturedly.

When she woke up that morning, she had made a decision to be positive and focused and forget about that stupid fortune and blood and darkness. After all, she did get accepted into Yale! So what if Harvard rejected her? It was a due process, structured elimination process, not a curse or something tied to her fate! She felt quite silly for even having believed in some charlatan's scheme. After all, she knew better than that.

Her mom laughed, pleased that Diora seemed to be in better spirits. "Oh, honey, I forgot to grab the orange juice. Can you get it out of the fridge for me, please?"

Diora nodded at her mom. Humming to herself, she skipped across the kitchen and towards the refrigerator. She passed an ornate, decorative oval mirror hanging on the wall next to the fridge, and she caught something out of the corner of her eye which caused her to abruptly skid to a halt.

_'That's funny,'_ she thought to herself. For a split second, for sure she had seen a misty grey fog swirling and distorting her reflection. Diora studied it, silently willing the mirror to do it again. Her troubled eyes turned the color of a grey sky on a cloudy day and a heavy sigh escaped from her full lips.

"I'm just imagining things and letting that old witch get to me," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Orange juice in hand, she plastered a bright smile on her face and hopped back over to join her family for breakfast.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Mirrors just don't fog up and ripple like that," Diora tried to reassure herself that evening as she stepped out of the hot shower.

"_Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood…"_

She shivered upon remembering those ominous words and wrapped herself up in a thick towel that had been warming up in the towel warmer. Despite her best efforts to follow the decision she made that morning to be optimistic, those words and the weird swirl in the mirror this morning had been haunting her all day. Just to prove a point to herself, she stared at her hazy reflection in the bathroom mirror. The girl on the other side raised her own hand up against the mirror's surface as Diora's fingers squeaked across it.

"See, Diora, you're just imagining things," she chided her reflection. It all suddenly seemed so silly- that she started giggling to herself.

Her reflection's chuckling smile rippled and blurred turned into a sinister grin as another face replaced it! Diora gasped as a bright white light gashed across the glass surface beneath her fingers. A disembodied hand reached out of the portal. It snatched tightly around her wrist in a painful grasp!

The hand was trying to pull her into the mirror! A scream escaped from her lips. Toiletries neatly arranged on the bathroom counter scattered all across the floor. Her wet feet squeaked across the bathroom tiles as they fought to brace her body against the unknown entity in the mirror.

"NO! LET—ME—GO!" she cried through gritted teeth. She resisted with all her might, but it was no use. The hand was too strong! She was up to her shoulder in the mirror now. She closed her eyes and screamed, preparing for the worst-

"Sissy, what's wrong?!" Teddy shouted as he burst through the bathroom door. His cheeks suddenly flushed several shades of crimson red.

"Eh?!" Diora's eyes blinked opened. She was suddenly very aware of the right side of her face pressed hard against the still pulsating glass and the cold air brushing up against her naked flesh. She looked down and saw the thick terry towel in a pool around her ankles.

"AGH! YOU LITTLE PERVERT!" her scream reverberated throughout the house.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Her mom's eyes clouded over with concern. Her gentle hands stroked a Diora's hair and she tried to soothe her daughter's frazzled nerves. "Honey, you've been under a lot of stress, and you've had a rough week," she whispered.

"But-!" cried Diora.

"Diora, maybe the heat in the shower got to you," her dad suggested.

"And you need apologize to Teddy tomorrow morning before you leave for the lake. Throwing your curling iron at him was not very nice. He could have been seriously h-"

Diora's jaw dropped incredulously. "Teddy? How can you just change the subject like that?! What about me?! I almost got kidnapped by some mirror-monster, and you're upset that I threw a curling iron at Teddy?!" she interrupted her mom, her voice growing more louder with each question. She was genuinely hurt by this seemingly lack of concern for her welfare.

Her father raised a hand to silence her. "Whatever happened, we do care and we are concerned, but we all know that disembodied hands don't appear out of mirrors! Maybe you dozed off and dreamt the whole thing." The exasperation was evident in his voice.

"It was not a dream!" Diora argued, her eyes flashing furiously. She crossed her arms across her chest and blinked back angry tears. This was so frustrating! Why didn't they believe her!

"I think you just need some sleep," concluded her mom. She gave Diora a big hug and kissed her forehead.

"Yes," agreed her dad. "And please take that ridiculous blanket off your mirror!" he instructed, nodding over to where she had used a hastily thrown a coverlet over her easel-backed mirror.

Diora watched her parents walk out of her bedroom. She knew it was childish and unlike her usual self, but she still made a face at their retreating backs, simultaneously pulling down her right eyelid and sticking out her tongue. "Fine! Don't believe me! I'll just have to protect myself and keep away from any mirrors from now on!" she sulked, hugging her pillow to her chest.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Don't forget your toiletries," Diora's mom reminded her the following morning as the base of the stairs. "Hurry up and finish getting ready. The girls will be here in a few minutes!"

"I know, Mom!" grumbled Diora, who was finishing up packing her things into a duffle bag. She did not sleep well the previous night. She had been plagued with nightmares of bloody and disembodied hands crawling up her body, being lost in a hallway of endless mirrors, and a creepy, faceless man trying to steal her away into the shadows.

And then this morning, she swore she saw her reflection become blurry and hazy when she was brushing her teeth. While running out of the bathroom as fast as she could with a toothbrush in her mouth, she'd accidentally swallowed instead of spit, and had considered calling Poison Control.

One source of comfort for her at the moment was that her bedroom mirror, which she had her back to, was still covered up. _'Although it will be difficult to live without being able to look at myself in a mirror… No matter, I'll figure that out later after the trip weekend," _she thought. '_And I wonder what Aeries will think about all this when I tell her. She probably crack some stupid joke about-' _

"Honey, let's stop with this silliness," her mom tried to persuade her. She walked over to the mirror and placed a hand on the comforter.

"NO, Mom! What are you doing?!" panicked Diora, suddenly turning to look over her shoulder. She's been so lost in thought that she hadn't heard her mom walk into her room to check up on her.

Diora's mother furrowed her brows in concern. "Diora, are you sure you're all right? You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Diora rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mom, I know." '_But I told you about the mirror and you and Dad just think I've gone over the deep end! High school senior goes mad due to hot showers and crumbling under the pressures of college entrance applications…'_

"You're not on drugs, are you? Or is this about a boy?"

"DRUGS?! N-NO!" exclaimed Diora, horrified to think that her own mother would think so low of her. "And there's no boy, Mom-definitely not," she answered the second question, waving her hands in front of her and shaking her head.

Her reaction was enough to satisfy her mother, who relented and took her hands off the blanket. She shook her head and sighed in wonder. Diora overheard her mumble something about "girls" and "hormones" as she left the room.

"Whew!" breathed a relieved Diora. She turned back around and zipped up her duffle bag. "I can't believe she thinks I'm on drugs. Aeries will really get a kick out of that one…"

Unfortunately, Diora didn't know that Mom had accidentally dislodged the blanket from the mirror…

She hadn't heard the gentle rustling of the comforter as it slid slowly off the mirror…

She didn't see the bright white light ripping across the swirly, undulating glass surface…

She couldn't even scream out as one hand reached out and closed up over her lips and the other wrapped itself around her waist, whisking her away from the only world she had ever known.

* * *

_**AN**: Poor Diora. Have you ever been hit with a string of rotten luck? And what's up with that creepy fortune? I had a heck of a time trying to come up with one that sounded ominous but not tacky. And I'll give you one guess of who Diora's mysterious "savior" will be hint: starts with an 'A'. _

**_Next Chapter:_**_ Alistair! Will it be love at first sight?_


	3. The Savior

_**AN: **Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in! And thank the Maker for Bioware, Dragon Age, and Alistair! __**Beyond the Realms of Reverie: A Girl in Ferelden** is modeled in the fashion of a high fantasy fairy tale, in the styles akin to **Spirited Away**, **Alice in Wonderland**, and **The Chronicles of Narnia**. In the words of Hayao Miyazaki, "It's not a story in which the characters grow up, it's a story in which they they draw on the strengths they already have inside them, brought out by the particular circumstances."_

_I invite you to follow and thank you again for your support and patience as the chapters get posted. __I appreciate all reviews, constructive criticism, and suggestions readers have to make._

_**Recap:** On Diora's 18th birthday, an old fortune teller foresees blood and darkness in Diora's future. After a series of unfortunate events, Diora is getting ready to join her friend Aeries for weekend at the lake when a pair of disembodied hands rip out of her bedroom mirror, and Diora is whisked away towards her destiny - and ALISTAIR! (be still, my heart!) {Grr...! That lucky girl!}_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**The Savior**

"I've got you this time, girl," a voice as cold as ice echoed from the mirror.

_'OMIGOD! This is really happening! I'm being dragged in!'_ Diora thought as the blinding white light enveloped her.

The hands dragged her through a swirling abyss of violet, black, and grey. The roaring sound of waves crashing in the darkness filled her ears. The air around her was thick, acrid, and crushing, like being trapped in a room of poisonous gas. Her muffled screams were to no avail, and she fought against will to free herself from the arms that tightened like a noose around her body.

Slowly, in the distance, a white doorway appeared in the darkness. Its light was bright, yet cold and harsh. She was being pulled towards that door! Something in her heart warned her that she must not go through that door! As she got closer to it, Diora was vaguely aware that her body no longer felt as though it were being squeezed through a wormhole. The air felt lighter, and she breathed easier. This gave her a renewed strength. Realizing this might be her only chance to escape, she started bucking and screaming, pounding and clawing at the arms wrapped around her.

And then, she was suddenly free!

Diora swam away as quickly as she could from the hands, which were now violently grasping at her feet. "No, let me go!" she cried out, kicking wildly at them. She looked up and saw another light glowing above her. It was more of a small window rather than a doorway, its yellow rays softer and warmer than those of the doorway.

Hope surged in her heart. She grit her teeth and swam in a final, desperate lunge towards the light.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"NNNOOOO!" Uldred screamed into the Eluvian as his prey disappeared from sight. He bit his lips in anger, ignoring the sharp pain and the metallic taste of blood.

He had been so close! Just a few more seconds, and he would have had her before him in flesh and blood. He cursed himself for having let his guard down, for being fooled by his confidence into believing he had her in his clutches. He hadn't expected her to be so strong or put up such a fight.

"No matter," he tried to console himself. "I've surely pulled her into Thedas. The Eluvian will guide me to where she emerges."

Uldred looked down at his bloody hands and clenched them into fists as he cast a healing spell on them. For now, he could only watch her from the Eluvian. He would need time to recuperate before attempting another spell to draw the girl to him. The summoning spell's requirement of blood had taken a considerable toll on his constitution. Even his blood, he knew, had not been enough to draw her from her own world to Thedas. The only reason the summoning spell had worked was because SHE was the one who had been called upon. It was the sacred and unknown power of the blood flowing in HER veins that had made the summoning possible.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Alistair, dressed in his newly crafted Grey Warden-heraldry-emblazoned suit of armor, held his head up high as he and Duncan walked out of Wade's Emporium in Denerim's Market District. Just a mere three weeks ago, he had been hopelessly resigned to live out his life as a templar, a fate which he had often considered worse than death. That was before the tourney the Chantry had held in honor of Warden-Commander Duncan's visit. The day of the tourney had marked a defining moment in Alistair's life. It was the day Duncan had recruited him into the Grey Wardens. Even then, the Grand Cleric had been reluctant to give him up, and Duncan had been forced to use the Right of Conscription.

It had been the happiest day of Alistair's life.

He was no longer Alistair, the bastard child whose existence had been a burden and a potential threat to the country. He was now Alistair, a proud Grey Warden, upon whose shoulders the fate of Ferelden rested with the looming Blight of which Duncan and the other Grey Wardens had spoken…

"Alistair…Alistair…!"

Duncan's voice snapped Alistair from his reverie. Alistair blinked a few times and turned to face his mentor and leader. "Oh-yes! Yes, Duncan," he replied, clearing his throat. His embarrassment was apparent despite his best attempts to now appear attentive.

Duncan chuckled at the newest and youngest member to join the brotherhood. How young he was! And still naive, in his own way. Despite the fact that Alistair had been bested thrice in the tourney, Duncan had admired Alistair's character most above all of the templars present. He had sensed that this young man had a good, loyal, and courageous heart— qualities that were just as important as a strong sword arm when it came to being a Grey Warden.

Duncan continued, "I have business with King Cailan at the palace. If you'd like, you may remain here in the Market District for the time being. You may meet up with me and the others at the inn later this evening if you wish."

Alistair paused, pondering Duncan's suggestion. "It _would_ be nice to stay here and walk around a bit. Yes, actually, I was thinking of visiting The Wonders of Thedas. Arl Eamon took me there the last time he brought me here as a child, and he bought me a miniature golem doll…"

Duncan laughed and nodded. "It's settled, then. I will meet you at the inn later tonight."

Alistair watched Duncan head towards the gates and couldn't help feeling an overwhelming, surreal sense of gratefulness sweep over him. That man had saved his life. He would always thankful for that. Duncan disappeared into the bustling crowd of the marketplace. Alistair, humming to himself and half admiring his new Grey Warden shield, turned and made his way towards The Wonders of Thedas.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Diora gasped for air as she broke through the light. She landed on an unforgiving, cold, hard surface and winced in pain. Something dull and heavy hit her in between the shoulders, knocking the breath out of her. She turned to look, and even in her shocked, dazed state she could see that the thing which had hit her was…her duffle bag?

A sudden, piercing scream and a flurry of footsteps and commotion drew Diora's attention to her new surroundings. Diora's blue-grey eyes blinked a few times and widened in shock. _'Where…?! Where am I?!'_ she thought alarmingly. She quickly assessed that she was in a dusty, exotic antique store of sorts, but everyone was dressed in what appeared to be medieval clothing! And they were all cowering around her, staring back at her with horrified expressions on their faces. She grew faint as a crushing sensation tightened around her chest.

"Maker, help us! She came out of the mirror!" shouted a young man garbed in flowing robes.

"Momma, what is it?!" cried a little boy, hiding behind his mother's skirts.

"A demon! Andraste's mercy!" exclaimed an older man, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"Help! Where are the templars! Call for the templars!" started screaming a lady who was dressed in a fine gown.

_'Wait? Are they calling ME a demon?! Omigod—OMIGOD! I have to get out of here!'_ Diora scrambled to her feet and snatched her duffle bag off the floor. Breathing in quick, panting gasps, she dashed for the door at the front of the store, sending a stone bust on a pedestal crashing to the floor and knocking over a stand of books along the way.

The crowd screamed and quickly parted a way for her. No one dared to touch this demon girl that had appeared from that old, rusty mirror in the back of the store. One minute, the whole store had been blinded in a bright, golden light. The next thing everyone knew, this abomination had emerged through the glass surface!

"This isn't my bedroom! What is this place?!" Diora asked herself, flinging the door wide open and running into the bustling alley. She noticed the curious stares and pointing fingers of those she passed on the cobblestone street.

She skid to a halt at the end of the alley.

Her jaw dropped when she saw the lively market square in front of her. In a trance-like state, Diora slowly turned around in a complete circle to take in the scene before her. It looked like the Renaissance Festival that she went to every year. Had she somehow been transported back in time?!

Bright red and gold flags swayed gently from the tall stone ramparts in the square. A throng of people all came together in a spectacular awakening of a busy hive. Unfolding to greet the glorious morning, windows flung open as shopkeepers almost simultaneously opened up their linear array of shops, exposing the colorful interiors and filling the streets with the exuberance of life. Children laughing and playing in the square… Cats chasing after one another... In the middle of the square, textile merchants were showing off their fabrics to the ladies… The fresh aroma of a baker's sweet, buttery perfume filled her senses…

"WHERE THE HELL AM I?! This is a dream! It has to be a dream!" She shook her head and closed her eyes. "When I open my eyes, I'll be back in my bedroom…! Everything will be back to normal!"

"There she is! The demon girl who appeared at The Wonders of Thedas!"

"Halt, in the name of the Maker!"

Diora gasped as the armed guards started running at her. They carried shields emblazoned with a fiery sun, and their swords gleamed coldly in the morning light.

"HURRY UP AND WAKE UP!" she screamed in sheer panic. She pinched herself on the arm. Hard. When that didn't work, she slapped herself a couple of times. The throbbing welt on her forearm and her stinging cheeks indicated that-

A cold, clammy sense of dread dropped on her like a ton of bricks.

THIS. WAS. NO. DREAM.

Those were real swords… And they looked razor sharp… And they were coming for her!

She stifled a cry. She was left with no other choice than to run as fast as she could away from the soldiers. Fighting back tears and holding tightly onto her duffle bag, which she had strapped across her shoulders as though it were a shield, she desperately pushed her way into the crowd.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Alistair heard the commotion in the square as he made his way over to The Wonders of Thedas. "What could be going on, I wonder?" he pondered quietly. From the frantic cries of the townsfolk, he made out the words "help" and"demon." He instinctively reached for his sword when a young woman squeezed through the group of people in front of him and ran smack dab right into him, nearly knocking him over!

Before Diora could cry out, a pair of strong hands swiftly reached out around her arms and steadied her. "No! Let me go! I'm not a demon, please!" she pleaded, struggling to free herself from the stranger's grasp. Fearing that she had been captured, she looked up, lips trembling. The stinging tears she had been holding back burned a pair of hot trails down her cheeks.

Alistair was delightfully awed at the creature in his arms.

Maker! She certainly was no demon, as far as his astonished eyes could tell, but a young woman-and quite pretty one. Her dark hair, which had been tied back in a bun, came undone when she bumped into him and now spilled gloriously down her back. He gasped when his eyes gazed down into the young woman's. He had never seen a pair of eyes like hers before. They were like the color of Lake Calenhad on a stormy day. She was of petite stature, not even reaching his shoulders. He easily could have mistook her for a child, but for the soft curves underneath her shift-

'_Wait-her shift? ANDRASTE'S FLAMING SWORD! Why is she running about the marketplace half naked, in nothing but her shift?!'_ he screamed mentally.

"You there, halt!" the senior templar ordered through the throng of folks, interrupting Alistair's thoughts.

Alistair looked over the heads of the crowd and saw a pair of templars quickly making their way towards them. Searching for the girl, no doubt. His eyes hardened in resolve. Though he could not explain why, he knew he had to protect her. There would be time for questions later. Right now, he needed to help her get away from them.

Diora gasped as the young man tugged her arm. She stumbled behind him into a different alleyway. He brought a gloved finger up to her tremulous lips, motioning for her to be quiet. He quickly scanned the area before leading her to the end of the alley. They squeezed in together in a cramped 3 foot space between two buildings and crouched low behind some wooden crates and barrels of apples. He whipped the canvas off an empty cart next to them and pulled it over them, using it and his body to conceal her from view just before the soldiers ran into the alley.

"I think she ran over there!"

"Quickly, don't lose her!"

Diora tightly closed her eyes and held her breath, silently willing the soldiers away. '_God, please! Please don't let them find me!'_ she silently prayed fervently.

'_Why are they after her?' _ Alistair wondered. He felt her tremble against him, probably because the templars were literally five feet from them. He had one arm braced up against the stone building next to them, holding up the canvas over them; the other rested on her shoulder. How small and fragile she seemed against his frame. As softly as he could, he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"She's not here!"

"Let's check the square again."

Diora shifted to rise from her hiding place. A gentle tug on her shoulder knocked her back down against a hard chest of metal plate.

"Not just yet," Alistair whispered, stopping her from rising. "They might come back."

'_Oh, yeah! I was so worried about those guys, I forgot about him!' _Diora's head snapped up and she turned back to lock eyes with her rescuer.

Her heart skipped a beat.

In her previous state of sheer panic and haste to escape the soldiers, she completely missed how incredibly handsome this guy was!

But now... here... in that little cramped space in between two buildings, amidst the apple barrels and beneath an oiled tarp, time stood still. In the soft semi-translucent light seeping through the thin leather canvas, she could clearly make out her rescuer's face. He had strong, chiseled features and a very straight nose. His forehead was wide, with thick brows. His honey colored blond hair was cut short, but stuck up rather untidily in the front-she wondered if that was done on purpose? A day's worth of dark golden stubble shaded his jawline. Friendly light brown eyes stared back at her. For as long as she lived, whenever she smelled the scent of apples and oiled leather, it would forever remind her of this very moment; of the dizzying sense of wonder that filled her, and of the dawning realization that she very much enjoyed how the fine lines around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her.

Then the spell was broken.

She was just about to return his smile when she suddenly remembered where they were and why they were there. She became incredibly conscious of how very close she was to him, nestled in his armored chest. She could feel the strength in his body. His steady, warm breath tickled the small of her neck. His left hand gently held her left shoulder, the gloved fingers lightly grazing the delicate skin past her collarbone. He stirred something deep within her, sending a tingling feeling coursing throughout her body.

What was wrong with her?! Since when did being around some guy cause her to not think straight?! And she needed to think, especially now! She needed to find a way out of this middle ages time warp and get back home. There were cute boys aplenty at home, at school, and even then it wasn't like she went all dreamy-eyed around them.

Feeling a flush rising to her cheeks, she bashfully turned away from him. '_Pull yourself together, Diora! Reality check! It's just some boy! It's not like you've never seen a boy before!'_ she mentally chastised herself, shifting uncomfortably in place.

Alistair, sensing a change in her mood, cleared his throat and glanced up over the crates. "I think it's safe to come out now."

Diora carefully tiptoed out of their hiding place. It was all clear. With a giant sigh of relief, she collapsed into a heap in the middle of the alley.

Alistair knelt down next to the girl and inadvertently brushed his arm against her own. "Who are you? Why are the templars after you?"

"St-stay away, you!" Diora scrambled up, grabbed a couple of apples from one of the barrels and chucked one at him. It bounced off his armor with a loud metallic thunk and landed on the dirt with a dull thud before rolling away. She held the other apple up in the air threateningly. Now that they were back out in the open, whatever closeness she had felt for him earlier dissipated, and she was on her guard again.

Alistair immediately took a step back and waved his hands up in front of himself in mock self-defense. "Hhhheyyyyy! I just got this suit of armor this morning, you know! It's brand new!"

This immediately threw Diora off guard. Out of all the possible reactions, she hadn't expected him to crack a joke. She raised her brows and blinked wide, bewildered eyes back at him.

Alistair picked up and apple and took a bite. It was crisp and the perfect blend of sweet and tart. "Umm... delicious! Would you like one? They're quite good."

Diora was at a loss for words. She shook her head, that same, bewildered look from before on her face.

"And as much as I enjoy eating apples myself, I'm not terribly keen on death by apple throwing. Death by fine cheese, perhaps…" Alistair continued good-naturedly, amused laughter in his voice. Then he pondered the thought and shook his head, "No, wouldn't work. The death part just takes everything pleasant out of the equation." He brushed an imaginary bit of apple splatter off his armor and, noticing that she had relaxed a little and lowered her throwing arm, introduced himself to her, "Now, there's no need to worry. I promise, I won't hurt you. I'm Alistair. What's your name?"

Diora studied this 'Alistair' warily, taking in the rest of the details. Like those who had been chasing her, he, too, wore a suit of metal armor. He carried a shield with an emblem of a white and blue lion with wings - '_A griffon?' _- and a sword strapped on his back. He was tall, at least 6 feet, but at her meager 5 foot height, everyone was taller than her. Judging from his powerful, muscular frame, he was definitely not 'just some boy' as she had categorized him earlier. '_A soldier? Maybe, but more like a knight,'_ she thought to herself. While she still agreed with her previous assessment that yes, he was indeed a very handsome man, did he have to have such a sexy British accent, too? With a voice like his, he could read her Harvard rejection letter aloud and still be make her swoon…

'_Hmm…there's a thought. Maybe colleges and universities should invest in that, just hire people with sexy British accents and do voiceover recordings of rejection letters and mail those out instead… Wait! NO-focus, Diora, focus! You've never cared about boys before. Out of the entire 18 years of your life to finally notice a guy, you choose NOW? REALLY?!'_ a little voice inside her head called common sense reprimanded her.

And she had no idea how _she _must look to him. What a vision she was, with her long dark hair wild and loose about her and her blue-grey eyes thoughtfully considering him. Her creamy complexion was flushed and her dusky lips parted with breath, probably from all the exertion of running earlier. Her deeply heaving chest-

"MAKER'S BREATH!" a furious whisper escaped Alistair's lips and interrupted Diora's thoughts.

"Wh-what?! HEY! Wait! NO! What are you-!" Diora sputtered out, alarmed. The worst had come to mind, and she thought maybe those 'templars' had returned. To her confusion, Alistair instead whisked the canvas from earlier off the ground and briskly wrapped it around her shoulders.

"And WHY in the Maker's name are you dressed in nothing but a blazing SHIFT?!" he demanded in a heated tone of voice, perhaps a tad harsher than he'd meant it to sound. The truth of the matter was that some rather inappropriate thoughts had spontaneously popped into his mind. The gentleman in Alistair was utterly ashamed of himself, while ogler in him was horrified that she might somehow guess where his thoughts had been leading.

"A blazing…?" Diora furrowed her brows and shook her head in puzzlement. '_What is he talking about?'_ she asked herself. She looked down and examined her clothing, and then glanced back up at Alistair, who made a great show of averting his eyes from her. And he was blushing! He was actually blushing!

Then dawned on her.

She was wearing a white, spaghetti strap, eyelet lace sundress that fell just a couple of inches above her knees. She had been getting ready to go to the lake, and wanted to wear something springy and summery. In the modern world, this was considered quite modest and fresh and youthful, but here...it was considered underwear! She actually found this to be a funny-hahaha-laugh type of situation and burst out laughing.

"OHhhhh…! Where I come from…" she started to answer him.

But she couldn't finish the sentence.

Of their own volition, her hands began trembling uncontrollably. Her shoulders started shaking and her legs suddenly felt like jello underneath her. Tears glistened over her eyes and blurred her vision. Her laughter convulsed into wrenching sobs.

Something evil had transported her back in time to this foreign, unknown place. She didn't know what it was, but she had sensed it. The people here thought she was a demon. They wanted to kill her. She had no idea if she could ever get back home. Everything was crashing down around her in a deafening roar. Her whole world had fallen apart, and she had absolutely no idea how to piece it back together.

This was her true reality.

She was lost.

She was alone.

And she was scared.

Alistair didn't know what to make of it. He silently approached her and awkwardly placed a hand on her arm, but was startled when, with an unexpected burst of strength, she forcefully pushed him away from her. It was enough to make him lose his balance and fall several steps back, right into a barrel of apples, strewing about the luscious red fruit while she reached for her pack and dashed towards the square.

"Hey! Wait!" he shouted, scrambling up. He ran as fast as he could, his metal boots ringing against the dusty road. His eyes scanned the crowds, and he caught a quick glimpse of her just up ahead. He was almost caught up to her when a merchant's wagon suddenly rolled out in front of him, blocking her from his view.

By the time he ran around it, she was gone.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_'I'm sorry, Alistair...! You were so kind, but I can't... I just couldn't-!' _

Diora wandered through the throng of shoppers and merchants, the canvas snugly wrapped around herself. She had wanted more than anything, in that brief moment of weakness, to tell him everything that had happened to her. But what good would that have done? He had made such a big deal about her dress. What would he think if she told him that she came from the future? Just this very morning, through a mirror? He might think she was crazy, or worse. As much as she didn't want to accept it, she was on her own. She couldn't trust anyone.

And she definitely couldn't afford any more mental breakdowns.

And then a thought popped into her mind.

It was ridiculous, she knew, but she was desperate, and it was worth a shot. She reached into the side pocket of her duffle bag and pulled out her Samsung Galaxy S4 smartphone. The brief flicker of hope that lit up her eyes extinguished when she saw the notification bar. _  
_

No. Freaking. Signal.

_'Well, THAT was a brilliant idea, Diora! You're stuck in the Middle Ages! Cell phone towers are centuries away from being invented, dummy!'_ Diora breathed in a deep, heaving sigh and firmly resolved that she would absolutely not start crying again. She glanced around her surroundings, feeling more forlorn than ever.

That was when she caught her reflection in a mirror hanging up one of the market's jewelry stands.

The mirror! No, not that mirror, but THE MIRROR - the one back in the antique shop! If she had come through it, maybe it could take her back home! Sort of like the looking glass in the Adventures of Alice in Wonderland!

As preposterous and impossible and illogical as the idea sounded to her - _'Seriously-using a mirror as a time machine?' - _the impossible had already happened! A pair of disembodied hands had indeed kidnapped her and brought her here back in time through a mirror. What else was there that she couldn't possibly believe to exist or be true or probable? Yes! Given everything she'd just been through, this was a feasible plan. She was not going mad.

"You, there! Watch where you're going! If you're not going to purchase anything, move along!" an angry sounding voice berated her.

Apparently, there were still things that existed that she hadn't thought to be possible. No, it's wasn't the merchant who had just yelled at her - it was the young male elf standing next to him. Yes, there was no mistaking it. Those were indeed very pointy ears. She blinked and took another look around the square, and she felt another anxiety attack coming on.

_'OMIGOD! I thought I was only kidnapped back in time, but...THERE ARE ELVES AND DWARVES here! What is this place?! This isn't even Earth!'_

"What are you staring at, girl?" The merchant narrowed his eyes at her.

Diora knew she shouldn't, but she simply couldn't resist pointing at the elf and asking, "Are those your real ears?"

The elf returned her question with a look of loathing. "Is that some kind of sick joke, _shem_?"

The merchant didn't take kindly to this strange girl questioning his servant. He noticed the makeshift cloak and the pack tucked underneath her arm. "What are you hiding there? Are you a thief?!"

"NO!" shrieked Diora as he reached for her. The tarp fluttered into the air as Diora lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. "Ouch...!" she moaned, rubbing her side.

"Eek! Isn't that the girl who came out of the mirror!"

"Over there! It's her!"

"Catch her!"

"NOOOOO! Please!" sobbed Diora as a pair of templars caught her and painfully gripped her arms.

"It's off to Aeonar with you! Attempt to do anything, and we will not hesitate to cut you down!" one of the templars threatened her as they dragged her away.

_'MOM! DAD! OH, GOD! PLEASE SAVE ME!'_

* * *

_**AN:** Apples remind Diora of Alistair. Is there a food that reminds you of a special someone? For me, french fries, specifically McDonald's french fries always remind me of my husband, because that's where we went out on our first date back on December 15, 2002. Funny, because my husband's got dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. Wouldn't it make more sense if he was blond?_

_Dear readers, what did you think? Reviews are always nice. _

**_Up next: _**_Sorry, no Alistair in the next chapter. Diora meets Uldred in a terrifying encounter._


	4. A Waking Nightmare

_**AN: **Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in, and a special thank you to those who have taken the time to fave/follow/review BtRoR: A Girl in Ferelden: SleepiPanda, Xaiael, writingNoob, Lady Zendra, cmdrShephard24, whrrtrudy, eris1234, ineslapin, Edward Cullen's Girl, and Hello-Nanabanana! *hugs*_

_For those new to **BtRoR: A Girl in Ferelden,** this is a high fantasy fairy tale, styled in the fashion of Spirited Away, Alice in Wonderland, and The Chronicles of Narnia, only with the adventures and romance that can only be Dragon Age mixed in. In the words of Hayao Miyazaki, "It's not a story in which the characters grow up, it's a story in which they draw on the strengths they already have inside them, brought out by the particular circumstances." _

_I invite everyone here to leave their comments and follow/fave the story._

_And thank the Maker for Bioware, Dragon Age, and Alistair!_

**_RECAP:_**_ Poor Diora. That girl can't seem to catch a break! After surfacing from a mirror into The Wonders of Thedas in Denerim's marketplace, the townsfolk accuse her of being some kind of a demon! The templars are right on her tail when she bumps into Alistair, who helps her hide from her pursuers. The two share a brief, but very sweet moment, before Diora has a panic attack and runs away from him. {Silly girl! I'd never run from him if that were me!} She figures out on her own that the mirror she came through might be her ticket back home, but before she can do any more, she gets captured by the templars!_

_Sorry, no Alistair in Chapter 3, but he comes back in Chapter 4, I swear! Nothing like absence to make the heart grow fonder, right?_

_ALSO, this is a dark chapter, especially for Diora, but it's important to the main plot of the story. And Dragon Age is not all flowers and sunshine, it's a also a cold and dangerous world._

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**A Waking Nightmare**

Diora endured a punishing day riding in a rickety prison wagon. The constant creaking of ungreased wheels grated against her ears. Her cheeks were grimy from road dust and stained with streaks from the tears that had flowed earlier. She looked down at her hands and frowned. She had a terrible habit of biting her fingernails and picking at her cuticles when she was nervous, absent mindedly chewed her nails down to ugly little stubs.

A foul countryside stench akin to that of garbage and wet dogs sank her already drooping spirits. Hunger gnawed at her stomach. Why hadn't she thought to take some of the apples from earlier? An evening cold was slowly creeping in, chilling her to the bones. Her body ached everywhere, and she longed for nothing more than the heat of a hot bath to warm her up and soothe her sore muscles. Well, that and to be back home.

The templars who captured her decided to stop at a farmhouse for the night. They locked up the prison wagon (and her along with it) in a barn. She could hear them outside, reassuring each other that the anti-magic wards they'd placed on the building would prevent her from using any magic to escape.

'_Anti-magic wards… Do people seriously believe in magic here? Ridiculous! What kind of place is this? Narnia? Nope, no talking animals...at least...I haven't met any talking animals yet, and Narnia was through a closet. Magic mirrors, dwarves, elves, magic...more like some dungeons and dragons crossbreed of _Through the Looking Glass _and _Lord of the Rings_,'_ she thought to herself.

How often had she read stories like _Lord of the Rings_ or _Alice in Wonderland_ and daydreamed about being able to visit or even live in such worlds? It was not all she had cracked it up to be. "No, definitely not," she told herself. She wrinkled her nose and swallowed down the urge to retch. "And in addition to garbage and wet dogs, I now have to tolerate the smell of manure."

It was good to hear the sound of her own voice. With the constant threat of having her head sliced off or being impaled on one of her captors' swords looming over her, she hadn't dared to speak to or even look at them while they were on the road. Now, it gave her a small sense of control in this chaotic situation to be able to think aloud, recollect her thoughts, and devise a way she might be able to get back home. She seemed to have regained more of herself. Of course a small part of her still wished she had stayed with that guy, Alistair. Fine, maybe a big part of her wished that right now.

After her capture, she had been hopelessly resigned to her unknown fate and sobbed silently for the first couple of hours.

Until she realized...

In addition to capturing her, the templars had also confiscated the mirror from which she surfaced. She overheard them talking about delivering it to a Circle of Magi, whatever that was, on their way to transporting her to place called Aeonar, where they would imprison her or—it made her sick to her stomach to think of this—they would execute her. They had taken the mirror, along with her duffle bag, into the house with them. Aeonar and this 'circle' was days away, according to what she'd listened in on. Between now and then, if she could somehow free herself, get her hands on that mirror, and try stepping into it, then maybe…!

It was her only chance.

And if that didn't work, well, there was always plan b: escape and run as fast as you can.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Watching the current events unfolding before him in his Eluvian, Uldred smiled to himself. He'd been worried at first, after losing her in the portal. What a stroke of good luck that she had emerged in Ferelden, in The Wonders of Thedas, of all places!

He knew the templars would be stopping at the Circle, and it would be easier to kill her when they arrived. But that could be days away. He only had a small window of opportunity to succeed in his plan, and time was slipping away quickly. The spell to connect both worlds was strongest when the Golden Star appeared in the morning sky and aligned with the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation; it grew weaker with each passing day as the distance between the two stars grew apart. Losing her in the portal had cost him the chance to perform the sacrificial spell at that critical moment. Within a day or two, the spell would completely useless until the next occurrence of alignment. He could not waste time and wait for her to come to him.

He would go to her.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

The templars had stopped at a freehold to rest for the night, blissfully unaware of the evil presence observing them through the gilded framed mirror while they dined around the farmer's table. They decided amongst themselves that each would take a turn guarding the prisoner in the barn tonight. After supper, they bid their kind host and his wife good night. The two elder members of the order settled down in their sleeping bags in the common room. The youngest member of the group, Carastor, would take the first watch.

Carastor, known as Caras by his comrades, was a stocky, fresh-faced young man who had taken his vows just earlier this year. After being posted at Ferelden's Circle Tower for the past three months, he had been allowed leave to go to Denerim to visit his sister and ailing mother. Since he was already going to be returning to The Tower after his trip, he'd also been assigned to escort this prisoner and the mirror as far as the Circle Tower on his return trip.

His comrades were already snoring by the time Caras was ready to head out the door. His hand was on the doorknob when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and frowned.

That mirror.

Its age was unknown, but its condition was quite excellent, with just a few minor scratches on its frame. The frame was carved from a large, single piece of wood and gilded in gold leaf. Its straight edges lacked the ornate scrollwork and embellishments typically found in antique mirrors, but that was made up for in bold geometry. It was a long, full length looking glass with a rectangular bottom, and whoever crafted it had cut a perfect half circle off the very top, creating a graceful scallop that dipped into and across the top of the mirror. A small, intricate five-petaled flower was engraved at the two points where the sides of the mirror met the curve of the cut. A decorative urn and leaf motif adorned the lowest part of the curve, and a single, delicate vine tasseled along down each of the sides. The cut created the illusion of a tall invisible curtain, and the looking glass was a stage.

It was only for a split second, but he swore he saw a shadow blur across his reflection. The oddest tingling sensation that the mirror was staring back at him prickled the hairs on his back.

He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Caras cautiously approached the mirror, with the intent to cover it up with his cloak. He didn't even have time to shout out a warning as a sinister violet glow engulfed him into the darkness.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

A scream woke her up.

Heart pounding and hairs standing on end, Diora stared into the darkness and listened. _'Something's not right…'_

She lifted her head at the sound of footsteps crunching down the path from the farmhouse a few minutes later. She heard a jingle of keys unlocking the padlock and a dull, metallic clang as it hit the dusty ground outside the barn. She furrowed her brows when the barn door creaked open and one of the templars walked in. She recognized him as the one named Caras. His golden hair gleamed in the moonlight.

As did his bloody sword.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked him, tucking herself into the smallest ball possible in the far corner of her cage.

He didn't answer her. Instead, he approached the wagon and unlocked the iron gate to her prison.

_'What the hell is going on here!? Is he letting me go? No—he can't be! This is a joke! It's a sick joke! It has to be!' _she thought to herself. "Hahaha, no thank you! I'd just rather stay here, please," she laughed nervously inching away from him.

He reached in and pulled her by the hair. He twisted it cruelly around his hand, using it like a leash to drag her out of her iron prison. He whipped her around and forced her to the ground. Diora squealed out in pain, turning around to gaze into the eyes of her attacker. They were pure black and burning with malice. His face contorted into a sinister smile. Her eyes widened in terror as he swung his sword down in a swift, powerful blow.

"NOOOO!" cried Diora as he swung the sword down. She rolled to her side and felt the sword slice through the air and bury itself into the wooden floor inches from her head.

While he worked to pry his sword off the floorboard, she took advantage of his split second distraction and kicked him in the codpiece. He buckled over and howled in rage. She felt his metal gloves claw down down the length of her bare legs as he tried to catch her while she scrambled away from him. Once outside, she slammed the door shut and snapped the padlock in place to buy herself some time. She leapt back and started sobbing hysterically when her attacker's sword lodged itself into the door, its tip protruding outside and narrowly missing her left eye.

Fueled by adrenaline and fear, she frantically half-stumbled, half-sprinted up the stony path on the hill towards the farmhouse. She knew needed to get to that mirror. It was her only hope. Right before she reached the door, she tripped and fell, popping open the stitches she'd gotten on her knee the other day after the escalator accident. She used the door handle as a crutch to help her rise. She swung the door open and screamed.

There was blood everywhere.

The walls were weeping with crimson tears. A pool of blood seeping over the wooden floorboards reflected the yellow flames crackling in the stone fireplace. She felt a warm wetness on her cheek and thought it might be tears, but the fingers that smeared it away were stained red. Oh, god...! It was even dripping down on her from the ceiling.

The templar's companions had been slaughtered in their sleep. The farmer was dead on the kitchen floor, headless. Diora could see glints of white protruding from his neck. His wife lay beside him. She had a long, gaping wound down her back, and her head was twisted at an odd angle. An expression of utter horror was frozen on her lifeless face.

"Omigod, omigod, omigod!" Diora breathed over and over. This was not happening. She squeezed her eyes shut and raised a trembling hand up to her lips, swallowing back the rolling urge in her stomach.

It was a scene from a horror movie. Only, it was real and she was a character in it. Her mind instantly rewound and flashed forward through every single scary movie she'd ever seen in her life. That scene out of _Scream_ with Randy-right, the rules to surviving a horror movie! She'd never gotten drunk or done drugs before, AND she was still a virgin. Wait! As of _Scream 4_, unexpected was the new cliche and virgins could now die!

'_NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO THINKING ABOUT SCARY MOVIES, DIORA! THAT CRAZY TEMPLAR WILL BE HERE ANY SECOND AND HE IS GOING TO KILL YOU!'_

And then she saw the mirror and remembered why she was here and what she needed to do. But as she limped her way over… The glass - there was something odd and ominous about it. Ultraviolet electric stormclouds churned and green lightning flashed beneath its surface. Diora could barely make out her own reflection in that dark tempest. Did this mean that some doorway was open? Her legs crumpled beneath her and she collapsed into an exhausted heap in front of it. Her fingers squeaked across the mirror and she held her breath.

Nothing. Nothing but cold, hard glass.

The veneer of poise and presence of mind with which Diora typically carried herself crumbled, along with any vestige of sanity she had remaining. She violently shook the looking glass with both hands and clawed at it like a mad beast before breaking down into wrenching sobs.

"GOD DAMN IT! Why won't you fucking work?! Work for me, God damn you, you STUPID, SON OF A MOTHER FUCK-FUCKING mirror!" she shrieked wildly.

She heard the slow creak of a door.

She froze in place, both hands braced against the mirror. Though her back was to the door, she could see everything in the mirror's reflection. She didn't even dare to breathe. She was sweating like a pitcher of ice water on a summer day. It trickled down off her cheeks and dripped onto the wooden floorboards. The jingle of Caras's boots with each deliberate step towards her tolled like a death knell in her ears. Each little metallic rattle twisted Diora's heart in an excruciating grip tighter and tighter until it had acutely paralyzed her senses, until all that remained of her was a wretched, trembling husk of fear and hopelessness clothed in a once snowy virginal dress which was now a crimson death shroud.

She saw his reflection stopped in the mirror. He stood behind her and with both hands, raised his sword high.

'_I'm scared…! I am so scared!'_

"NOW, YOU'RE MINE!" he shouted, swinging the steel blade down in one, powerful stroke.

Diora braced for the killing blow.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

They say that your life flashes in front of your eyes before you die. That's only partly true. In that split second, time stands still, and it's not only what you can see - it's also every sorrow and every joy you experienced in your life; it's every dream you dreamed and every dream that you left undreamed. For Diora, it was her mother's gentle, cooling touch on her forehead whenever she was sick with a fever; the deep, reassuring timbre of her father's laugh mixed her own peals of delight when she was still a child and he would hoist her up high into the air; she saw Teddy's winsome, toothy grin and the mischievous sparkle in Aeries's indigo eyes; the grittiness and velvet creaminess of sweet, salted caramel cheesecake melted in her taste buds; the scent of apples and oiled leather overwhelmed her, and the profound regret of never having fallen in love -!

'_NO.' _

She didn't want to die. She couldn't! Not here. Not...like...this!

The mirror suddenly pulsed like a heartbeat beneath her hands. A massive blast of energy burst open like a firecracker. Its force knocked the blade out of Caras's hand and sent him sprawling back. Searing white heat shot up from the glass through her fingertips and surged across her entire being in an electrifying sparks, awakening something inside her. Ripples of light fluttered across its surface and cast their rays into the dancing shroud of shadows beneath, shearing through the darkness. A mist of gold fell on her, cool and fresh, like being sprayed by an ocean wave on a breezy summer day.

It was like...she had unlocked something.

'_How...beautiful…!'_

A golden light engulfed her.

And then…

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

A bright golden light erupted from the Eluvian. Its force sent Uldred flying across his chamber, knocking him into the wall. Like a rag doll, he crumpled into a heap on the stone floor, breathless.

"What…?! What was that?!" he gasped, staring up across the room and into the Eluvian. What manner of magic had that girl summoned from the mirror? Or was it even the mirror? Perhaps it was the girl herself. Whatever it was, it had been strong enough to overcome the blood spell he conjured earlier to possess that templar. A scowl broke out on his face and he rose to his feet. "No! I will not lose this time! I will not lose to her!"

Uldred knew now that attempting to possess Caras through the mirror was not enough to accomplish his goal. He would have to travel through the Eluvian and kill the girl himself. It would be easy enough now that the other two templars were dead. He couldn't waste any time. He would not fail!

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

'_Darkness. Am I even alive? Or is this...the afterlife?'_

The last thing she remembered was apples. Odd. Why would she be thinking about apples when she was dying? And there was something more. It wasn't just apples, there had been...a flash of someone's face. Why couldn't she remember the face…?

"Maker have mercy! Are you alive?!" a voice echoed in the darkness.

Diora moaned softly in reply. Though she was slowly coming into consciousness, Diora eyes remained closed. She allowed her thoughts and her others senses to precede her sense of sight. Her memories flooded back.

'_That's right! At the very last moment, the mirror…! It started working! I'm alive! I must be! How else can I feel the throbbing pain in my head. Or taste the blood on my lips? Or even hear that voice? I'm alive! I'm alive!' _the voice inside her head sang joyously.

She heard a sigh of relief and the same voice, a male voice, continued, "Oh, blessed Andraste! Miss, can you hear me? Please, wake up!" Someone was gently shaking her shoulders. Persistently. It was irritating! Each little sway transferred waves of achiness through her battered body. Diora reluctantly opened her groggy eyes.

And then she was staring the murderer straight in the eyes.

It jolted her to the present like a lightning bolt.

"Oh, thank the Maker you're-uomph!"

"Fuck you! You just get the FUCK away from me!" Diora shrieked madly, wildly kicking and flailing at him. She screamed and raked her hands across his face, drawing blood, causing him to fall on his back and swear a muffled cry into his covered face. Her eyes quickly darted around. '_SHIT! I thought I made it back home. I'm still stuck here in this- the mirror!' _She crawled backwards up against mirror. Her frantic fingers groped all over its surface for an outlet, anything. SHIT! It wasn't working anymore! Why wasn't it working?! She had gotten it to work before! If she weren't so scared, she probably would have broken into tears of heartbreak by now.

"Please, calm down! I-I know what this looks like to you, but I swear! It wasn't me! Your magic just saved me! Whatever you did when you touched the mirror, it freed me! I was possessed! Something in that mirror, it possessed me! It made me kill my friends, and I couldn't stop it! I was trapped in my own mind, and all I could see were these terrible images…! I could see into his mind and feel… And Maker, what he wanted to do with you…! I don't know why, but he wants to kill you!" Caras's voice broke down and he pound the wooden floorboards with his hand. "Maker forgive me…!" he started sobbing.

Diora barely registered what he was ranting on about before the mirror started humming behind her. She felt the surface vibrate and bubble up and gasped. '_Could-could it be working again?!' _She turned to look, only to start screaming at the top of her lungs when she saw a pair of hands break through the clouded glass and tried to wrap their fingers around her neck

"Andraste have mercy on us!" cried Caras, wrenching Diora away from the mirror. He grabbed his blade in his hands and held it up to the looking glass. They took several steps back.

Out of the storm of violet and grey stepped an older man of middle stature, dressed in thick crimson robes. The wooden staff strapped to his back was polished black, with a silvery crystal ball on its end. The crystal seemed to be glowing with magical energy. A small, curved dagger with an ebony and gold trimmed handle was tied to the purple sash around his waist. Deep wrinkles crossed his forehead and frown lines ran down the sides of his dark lips. He was completely bald, but he had thick black brows. His beady black eyes gleamed coldly at Diora, as though in hunger.

Recognition filled Caras's face. He knew this mage from his time at the Circle Tower. "Uldred! You monster! You! You're responsible for this!" he shouted in disbelief, utterly horrified.

"Ahhhhh, yes, Caras, was it?" Uldred remarked. "I remember you from the Tower."

'_That voice! It's the same voice that I heard this morning in my bedroom!'_ realized Diora, shuddering. This was the one who had brought her here. This was the man who wanted her dead.

The templar in Caras surfaced. Diora felt his body steel up in front of her. "You will die for your transgressions against the Maker, mage!"

Uldred rolled his head back and started laughing maniacally. The sound sent shivers up Diora's spine. "You can try, templar, but I've come too far to let you stop me from killing the girl!"

Uldred suddenly released a force of telekinetic energy that knocked both of them back. Caras crashed into the dining table and Diora struck the wall behind him. It knocked the wind out of her and made her insides feel like she'd been sucker punched with a giant baseball bat. She sat up, and while trying to catch her breath, choked on some of the blood she was coughing up. Uldred followed his mind blast spell with a wave of fire, which would have scorched her for sure, had Caras not pulled her down behind the overturned dining table, which acted as a shield against the flames.

'_HOLY SHIT, HE'S SHOOTING FLAMES FROM HIS HANDS!'_

"I tire of this!" Uldred declared. He closed his fist and Caras rose up into the air, a silent scream on his lips as Uldred bound him in a crushing prison spell. The templar crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Uldred then turned his hard gaze unto Diora, who was crawling on all fours to escape from him.

"NOOOoo-oooWWWW-ow-ow!" wept Diora as he grabbed hold of her hair and forced her to stand on her feet. She closed her eyes and bit her lips, trying to silence her sobs.

"Look at me… Look at me!" Uldred commanded, pulling her head back so that her eyes would meet his. He had prayed to the demons in The Fade to grant him the perfect sacrifice, and here she was in flesh and blood, the one the Eluvian had shown to him. He had her in his grasp. He could almost taste the fear emanating from her, and it filled him with a sadistic, twisted sense of power. He had wanted her and succeeded in bringing her here. He would surely succeed in the spell to open a portal to her world.

Diora did as he commanded. Her tears were streaming down her face and dripping into the hollow of her chest, where she could feel her heart pounding frantically. She gulped for air. "Pl-please...who are you? What do you want with me?" she begged tearfully, searching in vain for mercy in those pitch black eyes.

"Shh, shh, shh," whispered Uldred. He slid his finger across her neck and rested it over her pulse. Pride welled up within him, and he couldn't resist reveling in his power over her as he revealed his sinister plan. "Right here,' he cooed, "is where I'll use my dagger to cut you. Your blood is the last ingredient I need to carry out my dark curse. I require the blood of an untainted innocent in order to cast my spell. I asked the Eluvian mirror to show me the most worthy sacrifice, and it brought you to me. I had to wait quite some time for you, for the perfect moment when the connection between our realms and the Eluvian are at their most powerful, when the Golden Star in the eastern morning sky aligns with the Eye of the Red Dragon constellation." He reached for his dagger.

'_...Your star shines ever more in the dominion of the Red Dragon… Your reflection is cast in the mirror of illusion, darkness, and blood...'_

The fortune teller's words reverberated in her memory.

She finally understood what it all meant.

Diora felt the cold steel press against her neck.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep! _

Diora's eyes snapped opened. '_My cell phone?! But how?!'_ the thought raced through her mind.

Uldred jerked his head around. "What was that? What is that sound?"

She heard her ringtone start singing: _'Where do you go when you're lonely? Where do you go when you're blue? Where do you go when you're lonely? I'll follow you... When the stars go blue...'_

Uldred scowled darkly. "Where is that singing coming from? What manner of spell is this that you are casting, girl?!" He jabbed the tip of the dagger into her flesh to force an answer out of her.

She yelped as the sharp tip stung into her. That hurt! It really, really hurt! A delicate trail of blood blazed down the length of her neck and down her collarbone. Her eyes shot in the direction of the duffle bag, where her phone was sounding off incoming calls and text messages. But even more astonishing... next to her pack, the mirror-a the tiniest golden flutter was quivering on its surface! What was it with that stupid thing working only when she was about to die?!

"DIE, MAGE!"

Caras had regained consciousness and charged at them. He waved his arms high into the air and brought down a blinding flash of fury and righteous fire down on Uldred. The impact of the holy smite knocked Diora and the dagger out of Uldred's clutches, but it wasn't enough to kill the mage, it only momentarily stunned him. Meanwhile, Caras collapsed to the ground. The spell had drained him of what little willpower he had.

Diora wasted no time. She scrambled over to the mirror and touched it, hope and relief overflowing within her when her hands broke through the glass like ripples on a the surface of a lake on a calm day. It was working! She didn't know how, but it was working! She pulled her duffle bag over her shoulders and took a deep breath, ready to take the plunge when -

'_Caras.'_

Stupid self-conscience! She couldn't abandon him. Even if he tried to kill her earlier, he'd just saved her life. She could never live with herself if she left him here. She let out a cry of frustration and ran over to him, helping him up to his feet.

"Caras, if you want to live, you have to trust me! We have to go into the mirror! We'll be safe there! I know it!" she told him urgently, dragging him to his feet and pulling him along. Damn, he was heavy with all that armor on him!

"WHAT?! Maker's breath, are you mad?! The cursed mirror!" Caras's feet wavered beneath him.

"YES!" Diora shouted into his face hysterically. "Come with me if you want to live!" Even at this moment of sheer desperation, it didn't escape Diora that this was a quote straight from that scene in _The Terminator. _Minus the accent. And the cool sunglasses. And the motorcycle, which could come in pretty handy right now. Damn it, she really needed to stop comparing this place to movies and books! This was real life!

Caras cast one look back at Uldred, who had begun to stir, and then locked his gemstone green eyes with Diora's stormy ones. Maker! They were beautiful. Wide and grey, flecked with bits of sky blue and lined with a dark, dark ring. Filled with fear, yes, but there was goodness and truth in them, and a strength that was rare, even amongst the strongest, bravest men. It was like he was seeing her for the first time as a human being and not some mirror demon. He nodded.

"We'll go together, now!" said Diora as they made it to the looking glass. Uldred's reflection suddenly flashed in front of them.

Everything happened in an instant, so quickly that Diora didn't even have time to scream.

In that split second, Caras had lunged forward and placed himself as a shield in between Uldred and Diora. A crimson tide gushed from the side of his neck where a dagger had lodged itself. Trickles of red rolled down the front of the templar's steel armor. Furious that he had missed his intended target, Uldred grunted ferociously through clenched teeth and viciously twisted the blade before ripping it out of his victim. The fine, bloody mist that sprayed on Diora's horror stricken face seemed to burn into her skin.

Caras coughed, blood gurgling forth from his lips. With what little strength he had left in him, he turned his head one last time to smile softly at Diora, before the falling momentum and the impact of his body pushed her backwards into the mirror. Diora disappeared into a shower of golden light. The magic doorway instantly sealed itself shut behind her as she passed through the portal, transforming into glass.

Caras closed his eyes and allowed his body to simply… fall back.

The looking glass shattered into pieces around his lifeless body.

* * *

_**AN: **So, what did you guys think? Your reviews really keep me going. And if you didn't understand the reference to the smell of apples when Diora's life flashed before her, read Chapter 2. Thanks! *hugs*_

_**Up next:** Duncan surprises Alistair and the Grey Wardens when he brings a strange girl from the Wilds back to camp at Ostagar. Any guesses of who this strange girl might be?_


	5. An Unexpected Reunion in Ostagar

_**AN: **Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in, a__nd thank the Maker for Bioware, Dragon Age, and Alistair! Shout out to new follows/favs/reviews: PainInUrAft-Nexy, Renrinrin, writingNOOB, and whrrtrudy._

_For those new to BtRoR: A Girl in Ferelden, this is a high fantasy fairy tale, styled in the fashion of Spirited Away, Alice in Wonderland, and The Chronicles of Narnia, only with the adventures and romance that can only be Dragon Age mixed in. In the words of Hayao Miyazaki, "It's not a story in which the characters grow up, it's a story in which they draw on the strengths they already have inside them, brought out by the particular circumstances."_

**_RECAP:_**_ Uldred pulls Diora from the modern world into Thedas through his magical mirror, the Eluvian. However, she manages to escape from him and appears instead through a different Eluvian in the Denerim Marketplace. The townsfolk believe she is a demon, and she is able to elude capture by the templars with Alistair's help. Unfortunately, the templars manage to capture her anyways. On route to the Circle and Aeonar, the templars fall into Uldred's trap. Uldred is going to kill Diora as a living sacrifice. Diora manages to escape with the help of the templar Caras, who gives up his life protecting her._

*YAY! ALISTAIR IS BACK! And yes, the unexpected reunion = Diora+Alistair. *hugs*

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**The Unexpected Reunion in Ostagar**

Diora was unsure just how much time she spent fleeing. She sped blindly down the only passageway before her, a hazy colorless tunnel with a stone pathway that lit up beneath her feet with each step she took. The passage reverberated with the sounds of her racing footsteps. She had no idea where this path was leading, and there seemed to be no doorways in sight. She baptized the grey mist with a trail of sparkling tears, and the air around her seemed to come alive in a beautiful myriad of iridescent rainbow hues at her touch. The walls cradled her in an ethereal song as she dashed along them.

She did not notice the beauty of the magic around her. Instead, she was trapped in flashes of nightmares: how powerless she had felt beneath the bloodthirsty gleam of Uldred's beady black eyes; the sickening sound of his dagger sinking into ligament and muscle, burying itself to the hilt in Caras's neck; the spray of blood, like warm rain against her skin; that final, fleeting smile the templar had given her as life's luster faded from his emerald green eyes; the tinkering of shattering glass, followed with the bittersweet knowledge that Caras's final act was not only saving her life, but also ensuring that Uldred could not follow her into the mirror. A sharp ache constricted her chest. She had been summoned here to this horrible place to be a living sacrifice! It was too much for her broken spirit to bear. She wanted to forget. She wanted to forget everything! She sped up her pace, as if doing so would help her escape the memories, as if -

Instantly and without warning, a brilliant circular light flashed underneath her feet. The stone path beneath her suddenly gave way into thin air, and the brightness beneath her swallowed her up like a sinkhole.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

The Grey Wardens had just won a vicious skirmish with a group of darkspawn scouts before the walls of the cavern suddenly shook and earth beneath their feet tremored ominously. Beneath a vaulted canopy of stalactites, loose dirt and stone crumbled and pelted down on those below. They scrambled for cover and braced for the worst. Dancing rays of light, blazing and brilliant like the birth of a star amidst darkness, broke through the black shadows and the bluish white halo cast by the phosphorescent deposits embedded in the ancient rocks.

Duncan's sword and dagger remained drawn. He had ducked behind a massive marble pillar that had long toppled on its side. This cave the Wardens had stumbled on while scouting the darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds was full of such things, these grand white ruins of old. Once a symbol of the glory and power of the Tevinter Empire, they were now broken down bits of marble half-buried by rocks and the passage of time. As the light waned and the dust settled, the Grey Warden Commander glanced over to the nearest Senior Grey Warden, a dwarf who, in his colorful language, voiced the exact same thought that Duncan had been pondering himself.

"By the tits of my ancestors, what was that light?!" Grigor, the dwarven Grey Warden warrior who had asked the question, picked himself up, trusty dragonbone maul gripped both hands. He shook his head, sending the bits of gravel that had landed in his greying hair flying in all directions. "Argh…! Fire and blight!" he spat when the attempt did little to dislodge the dirt from his bushy braided beard and instead caused the loose dust on his furry eyebrows to fall into his eyes.

"Whatever it was, it was no darkspawn," remarked Alain in his thick Orlesian accent. He also shook the dust from his long, pale moonsilk blond hair. The Senior Grey Warden ranger then nocked a quiver on his bow and pointed it in the direction of the blast's epicenter. His narrowed light blue eyes tried to pierce through the thick haze of dust.

Duncan cautiously stepped out from his hiding place. "Grigor, Alain, be on your guard. I will see what it is."

Alain opened his mouth to protest, but immediately clamped his lips together after Duncan's dark eyes and set face shot him an implicit command not to contravene. The Grey Warden Commander silently stepped over the bodies of darkspawn and made his way over to where the light had originated. Duncan's movements were deft and quiet, not so unusual for someone who had spent most of his life as a well-trained rogue.

Duncan paused when he saw a glint of silver in front of him. As the dust cleared in the air, he realized it was from his own silver and white armor, reflecting back at him through a mirror. Ripples across the surface distorted the image of the Rivaini man with the swarthy skin, dark hair, and a curved hooked nose. The Warden Commander's eyes narrowed and studied the looking glass. He had not noticed the mirror before in the heat of combat with the darkspawn earlier, but it absolutely captured his full attention now. The flutters on the glass pond had ceased, and Duncan stared hard into his reflection for several more seconds.

Mirrors such as this one were rare, but certainly not unheard of. The Grey Wardens knew of the existence of such mirrors. The Arlathan Elves used them as communication and teleportation devices, though that knowledge had been lost for hundred of years since the fall of Arlathan. The Tevinters had tried in vain to master the power of the mirrors, succeeding only in using them for communication.

The mirror was circular and quite tall in height; its arch rose several feet above Duncan's head. It was inlaid in silver, and an exquisite filigree of floral patterns surrounded its circular border. Silvery wisps of blossoms and vines reached out towards him; the mirror had been crafted in such a way that it resembled a blossoming crown that had been turned on its side. The haze continued to dissipate, and the Warden Commander glanced down and noted that the looking glass stood elegantly before him on a silver base with four, silver, heart-shaped feet.

_And there was a girl!_

Duncan held his breath.

A slender, virginal, unconscious young thing. She was still bathed in a gentle golden glow that was slowly ebbing away. Dark flowing hair a shade or two lighter than his own. Pale skin and dusky lips. A crease marred her brow. She clutched a large satchel, the likes of which he had never seen. She was scandalously clad in nothing but shift. Crimson blood stained her clothing, and her body was covered in cuts and bruises.

Duncan called his companions over. He sheathed his sword, but kept his dagger in his hand just as a precaution. He knelt down before the young woman and gently nudged her shoulder, an action which garnered no response from the her. He could sense no sign of corruption in her. She was certainly no darkspawn. Even in her current state, she appeared too well-bred to be one of the Chasind or the wildlings that lived deep in the marshes of the Korcari Wilds. A mage, perhaps? If she was, she didn't look like any kind of mage he had ever seen. Did the light come from her? How had she come to be in the cave? Duncan knew the mirror had something to do with her appearance, but… how… was that...even possible?!

"Maker's breath, Duncan! It's a girl!" exclaimed Alain. He kept his arrow trained on the young woman on the ground.

Grigor, however, relaxed his stance and lowered the giant hammer before him. "Ancestors have mercy! Is she alive? How did she even get here?!"

Duncan's gaze remained locked on the unconscious girl while he answered his companion. "Yes, she's alive. I think this mirror may have something to do with her appearance, though I can't be sure."

Grigor walked up to the mirror and poked at the glass. After inspecting it and his reflection for several minutes, he shrugged his shoulders. "Looks just like a simple mirror to me."

"Be careful, Duncan. We don't know what she is. She could be a dangerous mage, or some kind of witch," Alain warned Duncan as the Warden Commander placed a gloved hand on the girl's forehead.

Even through his leather gloves, Duncan felt the heat radiating from her body. He debated several options internally to himself before making his decision. "She's burning with fever. We must take her back to camp. We can't leave her here. The darkspawn might return. "

Alain shook his head disapprovingly and raked a hand through his shoulder-length white-blond hair. "Very well, Duncan," he acquiesced after breathing in a deep sigh. "I hope you know what you are doing. This will certainly stir some commotion at camp."

"She sure is a pretty one, isn't she? Wonder what happened to her clothes…?" Grigor pondered with a prurient chuckle. Grigor had a zest for life, wine, and women. Just because he was a dwarf didn't mean he didn't appreciate a fine human female form when he saw one.

Duncan rolled his eyes let out a grating sigh. He unwrapped the satchel's strap from around the girl's shoulders and tossed it up to Alain. The Orlesian begrudgingly caught the pack and groaned about how heavy and bulky it felt. Duncan easily lifted the girl's tiny frame into his arms and started heading towards the passage leading to the cave's entrance.

"What about this mirror, Duncan? Want me to take my maul to it?" Grigor asked casually. He drew up his maul in a swinging stance and readied his arms.

Duncan paused in his tracks and turned around to study the mirror one last time. How calm the glass surface now seemed. It glowed and softly reflected the bluish-white light of the cavern. Something about that mirror… struck him just as much as the mysterious girl in his arms. Just like the young woman, it held secrets, he was sure. But what kind of secrets? Duncan shook his head. "No. Leave it be. Once the darkspawn are dealt with, we will return to examine it further."

Grigor scowled a look of feigned disappointment. "C'mon, Duncan, you never let me have any fun!" he called out towards Duncan's retreating form. The dwarf shook his head and followed suit, cursing at the black crow that had suddenly swooped down from out of nowhere right above his shoulders. "Blighted thing!" He picked up a stone and attempted to hit the bird as it flew down the cavern passageway past the group and into the forest.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Hey, kid, did you hear about that girl yet? The one Duncan found wandering naked in the Wilds today?"

Alistair sputtered and sprayed the water he had been drinking all over Grigor. While Alistair coughed and recovered rather ungracefully from his bout of surprise, Grigor howled in disgust and flicked the water droplets off his splintmail. Alistair, dinner plate in one hand and a cup of water in the other, had just sat down by the fire next to Grigor before this occurrence. The younger Grey Warden eyed the dwarven Senior Warden incredulously. "You're joking, right? This is one of your tricks, isn't it, Grigor? Ever since you found out about- about- that I- _you know _- you- you've been trying-!" Alistair's ears started tingling with embarrassment, and his cheeks turned bright red.

Grigor chuckled gleefully as the lad stumbled over his words. Alistair had made the mistake of revealing to Grigor and the others that he had never been with a woman; and ever since, Grigor had tried to "fix" that situation for Alistair. The dwarf had even gone as far as to proposition a "businesswoman" on Alistair's behalf here at camp. She had been less than pleased when Alistair had bluntly - yet politely- booted her and her services from his tent.

"Grigor, you know full well she was not naked," Alain said dryly. He sat across the fire from Alistair, meticulously whittling at his nails with a dagger. The Orlesian Senior Warden was careful not to reveal too much information, as Duncan had explicitly instructed him and Grigor not to mention anything about the mirror until the girl awoke and could be questioned.

As Alain had predicted earlier in the cave, the strange woman's appearance here at camp had indeed created some excitement, especially among the men. To further exacerbate the situation, Duncan decided to take the girl to his own tent instead of the camp's infirmary - though that may have had more to do with allowing the girl to recover in relative safety and away from curious eyes rather than any personal agenda on the Warden Commander's part. Within several hours, however, everyone had heard about the mysterious young woman the Grey Wardens rescued from the cave in the Wilds. '_And now, not only is she supposedly so exceedingly beautiful that Duncan hides her to keep her to himself, she's naked, no thanks to Grigor, I'm sure. Though I will admit the girl is pretty, her beauty merely twinkles as stars compared to the moonlight of Empress Celene and the sunrise of Queen Anora,'_ Alain concluded.

"Bah, griffon's buttocks! I'm just teasing the young'un a little!" Grigor countered, animatedly waving Alain's comment away - and spilling half the ale from the cup in his hands as he did so. "Bloody ancestors! But she was as good as naked! Dressed as she was, didn't leave much to the imagination. And an eyeful, too, by the stones! Nubile little thing and all slender shapely limbs. You definitely wouldn't have turned _her_ away the other night." He took a swig of ale from his cup and winked at Alistair, much to the latter's abashment.

Alistair tried to ignore the dwarf's last comment and took a bite out of a hunk of bread. It was a hearty bread, sweet and nutty, with berries and whole grains baked in. He chewed silently and pondered over this new bit of information from Grigor and Alain. He and the newest recruits -Aedan, Jory, and Daveth- just returned that evening from their own adventures in the Wilds after completing the tasks Duncan had requested of them. Duncan failed to mention a word of this mysterious girl to Alistair, even after dismissing the recruits. Alistair wondered why.

As if reading Alistair's thoughts, Alain spoke, "You have only just returned. I am sure Duncan was planning on telling you himself, but he has been busy making preparations for the upcoming Joining ceremony for the new recruits. He wants to perform the ceremony tonight."

That was when Daveth sauntered over and joined them. "Alistair, did you hear? While we were getting darkspawn blood and avoiding getting turned into toads by those witches for them treaties, Duncan found some naked girl in the Wilds. I heard she's in his tent!"

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_Duncan stood high on a cliff, watching the gathering storm. It lashed out with lightning that split the skies and rumbled with thunder that shook the earth. Flames ravaged the war-torn valley. Above the trees, hot smoke ascended into the air, burning his lungs. Above the howling wind, an ethereal melody of beautiful whispers rose. It hummed in the blackness that slithered across the land before him and engulfed the daylight in darkness. It was a call that could not be ignored, compelling his blood and caressing his mind. Once a thing of perfection, it was now corrupt, tainted by the same ichor that coursed through his veins._

_The call of an Old God. _

_The nightmare was a familiar one, recurring more constantly of late._

_Only... this time, the scent of roses floated in the air. Velvety, sweet, and intoxicating. Deep red and dusky pink rose petals cascaded down upon him from the rust-colored skies. Mingled with the smoke and flying embers. Thick, acrid, and choking._

_Ashes of roses._

_This struck Duncan as odd. How often had he dreamt this black dream? Countless times, and never like this. Where were the rose petals coming from? He glanced all around and froze._

_The girl they had found in the cave._

_She seemed just as shocked as he was when their eyes met. She was bathed in starlight, golden like the sun yet airy like the moon. A divine vision amidst a shower of blooming rose petals._

"_Who are you?" Duncan asked. Surely, this was HIS dream, wasn't it? How did she come to be in it?_

"_Diora. Diora Starr," she answered. Then a pained expression shadowed her face. The encroaching darkness seemed to weaken her. Her light faded from her as she fell to her knees. She lifted her trembling hands before her and let out a staggered cry as she looked down into her palms._

_Duncan closed the gap between them - and felt like he had been suddenly turned to stone when he glanced at her open palms._

_Crimson droplets._

_Instead of raining rose petals, the sky was weeping tainted blood._

Duncan awoke with a start.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

_Red rain…!_

Diora gasped and bolted up, heart racing at what felt like a hundred beats per minute. Perspiration dotted her forehead. She gulped, wincing at how dry her throat felt, and tried to control her ragged pants with deep, measured breaths. Then she looked down at her hands and felt a wave of relief wash through her.

A dream. The bloody rain had only been a dream.

A cool brush of air glanced across her chest, and she realized she was completely naked from the neck down - no, she was just completely naked, period. She quickly grasped the blanket and pulled it up around herself, and then darted her eyes around her surroundings.

She was on a rather lumpy cot in a modest sized tent, facing the tent flap. Rays of sunlight peeked through the slits of the opening. A wooden trunk sat at the end of the cot. Next to her, a small lamp burned low on a rustic makeshift table, and an equally homespun looking chair was placed next to the wooden bedside table. An empty wooden rack of sorts stood upright on the other side of the tent. On a ground of grassy carpet next to the stand, a red nylon duffle bag. She could hear barking dogs and low conversations outside.

The flap opened, and a woman wearing a long, green robe peeked into the tent. She was older, with greying, pale blond hair tied back into a short ponytail. The fine lines around her kind blue-green eyes crinkled into a smile. "Good morning! I thought I heard some movement in here," she said warmly. Upon seeing the young woman inch back, the older woman continued, "There's no need to fear, child. My name is Wynne, and I am a healer here. Duncan asked me to tend to your wounds when he brought you back to camp yesterday evening. Duncan was most interested in you. I should let him know - Oh! Maker's breath, Duncan! Must you sneak up on a poor woman like that?!"

The older woman had dropped the flap, so Diora could only listen in on the conversation. Diora heard a dry chuckle, and then a soft, grating voice that for some reason invoked mouth-watering images of... rock candy. Dipped in milk chocolate. Her stomach grumbled. Loudly. When had she eaten last? She couldn't seem to remember….

"Good morning, Wynne. How is she?"

"She awoke just now. I was about to come over to Alain's tent to inform you."

Duncan stepped into the tent, followed by Wynne. "Thank you, Wynne. If you don't mind, might I have a few minutes alone to speak to our guest?"

"Of course, Duncan," Wynne nodded. Before leaving the tent, she turned to Diora and said, "I'm sure you must be hungry. I'll just go and bring you back something to eat."

Diora eyed this "Duncan" warily as he sat down in the chair next to the cot. A middle aged man with dark hair that was greying around the temples. He was tall and well-built and had a commanding bearing about him. His silver chest plate bore a unique pattern of swirls and lines, and rows of copper plates and buckles ran down the length of his arms. Time spent in the elements weathered his dark complexion, and a sunbaked glow bronzed his naturally swarthy skin. His deep brown eyes bore a solemn countenance, and his ruddy lips were set in a thin line amidst a neatly trimmed beard. To her surprise, a gold earring flashed in one of his ears.

Yes, he absolutely reminded her of chocolate-covered rock candy.

Recognition filled her face. "I saw you… in a dream...!" Diora exclaimed softly. Then, what little color she had faded from her face and her bluish-grey eyes grew wide. She shuddered. "And- and I saw shadows all around you…! A-and red rain-!"

Duncan was as stunned as if he had been struck with a physical blow. What was going on here?! How in the Maker's name could they have had the same dream? Or…. In his studies, he had read about mages with the power to affect the dreams of people. Could this woman be such a mage? Wynne had not recognized the girl as a mage of Ferelden. Was she from another Circle, perhaps? Or was she an apostate or some kind of Fade spirit who had stepped into his dream?! He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head ever so slightly, regarding the young woman more cautiously. "Who are you?"

"Diora... Diora Starr," she replied, just as she had in Duncan's dream.

"Diora, we found you in a cave. You were burning with fever and injured. Do you remember?"

Diora slowly shook her head and looked down at her hands. She found Duncan's fixed gaze on her to be unnerving. The urge to nibble on her nails was driving her mad! Instead, she nervously picked at her cuticles.

"What can you remember?"

"I-," she started and then she blinked her eyes wildly at Duncan's question. She opened her mouth to answer the question, but uncertainty crossed her face. She bit her lips and squeezed her pondering eyes shut. Why did everything suddenly go blank, like someone had drawn a white curtain over her memories? A clammy, crawly terror slithered from the edges of the veil, suffusing her with a terrible chilling pain that seemed to be all over her and yet was not of the body. A cold sweat broke out on her face. She willed herself to focus. An object flashed in her mind. The vision was gone in the blink of an eye, but it pierced her mind vividly, enough for her to finally softly whisper, "There was… a mirror."

Duncan looked down at Diora's hands and saw how tightly she clutched the blanket, the delicate skin stretched tautly over her white knuckles. She was frightened - but of what? He softened his stance and adopted a more calming tone of voice. "You are afraid. Why? What happened to you?"

Diora slowly lifted her gaze to meet Duncan's. Her pupils had dilated until they swallowed up her irises and turned her eyes into fearful pools of blackness surrounded by a delicate ring the color of a cloudy blue sky. For Duncan, the effect of staring into that starkly white, innocent face was startling and devastating at the same time.

"I- I- can't remember anything else before waking up in this tent...!"

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

"Alistair, I have a task for you."

"Oh! Duncan! Of course!" Alistair felt like he had just jumped out of his skin. How did Duncan always manage to move about so stealthily until he was completely behind someone before purposefully making his presence known? Alistair wondered if spooking people like that secretly amused Duncan. Alistair squared his shoulders and cleared his throat in an attempt to appear and sound more presentable. "What did you need, Duncan?"

"I have… a certain matter I would like to discuss with you," Duncan started saying, carefully choosing his words. "King Cailan has requested the presence of the Grey Wardens at the war council this morning, and -"

Alistair gasped. "And you want me to join you?" he interrupted, excitement bubbling over. Not that Alistair really cared for war councils, he imagined it would be long and dry and he wouldn't even have much to say. Still, to be invited….

"Um… No, Alistair, not this time." Duncan shook his head slightly.

"Oh," mumbled Alistair, pride deflated. He should have known better, the council was usually reserved for important key players, not relatively new Warden Ensigns.

Duncan pat Alistair's back reassuringly. "Alistair, you already know most of the details, and I will inform you of the rest. You are a Grey Warden, and you still have an important role to play, even if you are not privy to the war council. Now, while Aedan and I -"

'_I take back what I thought earlier about the council and new ensigns. Aedan just became a Warden last night!' _Alistair could not help thinking glumly to himself while Duncan continued to speak. He kicked at the dusty ground with his metal boots.

"-are at the war council today, I would like for you to escort someone up to the follower camp a few miles north of here," Duncan finished the sentence.

The follower camp was where the spouses and children of soldiers resided if they had decided to follow the army. It was also where most informal army service providers serviced soldiers needs whilst encamped, in particular selling goods or services that the military did not supply. Such needs and services included cooking, laundering, liquor, nursing, sutlery, and sexual services. Most service providers often traveled between the follower camp and the main army camp.

'_An escort?'_ Alistair frowned. "With all due respect, Duncan…," he started to say.

Duncan raised a hand to silence Alistair. "This is no heedless task, Alistair. I would do it myself were my presence not needed at the war council. Since I can not, I would trust no one else but you to carry it out."

This made Alistair feel better. Duncan's trust and approval meant a great deal to Alistair. The young man felt like he had been lost, wandering aimlessly in the world until Duncan recruited him into the Grey Warden order little over six months ago. In those precious months since, Alistair found a family in those he called brothers, and he had someone he could look up to. To Alistair, Duncan was more than just a mentor or Ferelden's Commander of the Grey, Duncan was the father Alistair never had.

Sensing Alistair's silence as acquiescence, Duncan motioned for Alistair to follow him. They fell into step together, heading towards Duncan's tent, while the elder Warden continued, "Now, as you may have heard, Alain, Grigor, and I found a girl yesterday while scouting for darkspawn in the Wilds. Scouts have reported substantial darkspawn troop movement in the south. All evidence points to a battle, most likely tonight. I would have the young woman out of harm's way."

"I don't quite understand, Duncan. Do you mean to conscript her?" Alistair asked. What was so significant about this woman? The young man refused to believe the rampant rumors that scandalized those at Ostagar, that Duncan meant to take the girl as a lover. Duncan didn't strike Alistair as the womanizing type of man, so the possibility of conscripting this mysterious girl into the Grey Wardens was the only other logical reason that Alistair could think of at the moment to explain Duncan's interest in the girl.

They reached Duncan's tent, and the Warden Commander stopped outside. He hesitated and lowered his voice when answering his protege. "Not… exactly. She's... different. The circumstances of our finding her were _peculiar,_ and she has displayed some… _curious_ abilities." '_Like appearing through a mirror and then stepping into the dreams of others and shaping them to her will,'_ Duncan thought silently. He did not want to reveal too much information without investigating the matter further, and of course investigating the matter would have to wait until after the darkspawn.

Alistair cocked a curious brow at Duncan. "What kind of abilities? Is she a mage, hiding from the Chantry?"

"I know you were once a templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not ours," Duncan said firmly. "I can not tell you much, as I know little of her myself. And Alistair, I must warn you..."

"Warn me about what?" Alistair shifted a sideways glance at Duncan.

"When she woke up this morning, she couldn't remember anything, with the exception of her name. She's lost her memory," Duncan replied.

"Isn't that convenient," sighed Alistair.

Duncan winced at Alistair and placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, squeezing it softly. "Alistair... be kind to her. She was in such a state of panic earlier that one of the mages needed to place a minor sleeping spell on her. She's alone and scared and doesn't have anyone to turn to but us."

Alistair sensed his mentor's disappointment. He felt his face flush with shame. Alistair, of all people, knew what it felt like to be alone, and here he was dismissing some poor girl who was in the exact same position he'd been in most of his life. "Of, course, Duncan. I apologize."

"Now, I have already sent a message ahead to Madam Lucille in the follower camp. You are to bring the girl to her for safekeeping until-"

"Wait!" exclaimed Alistair incredulously. "Madam Lucille- you mean, the woman who- who runs and oversees- all of the-?" Alistair could not manage to finish the sentence and started to blush profusely. Madam Lucille oversaw the ring of 'businesswomen' here at camp. "You're thinking about sending her there?!"

Duncan could not help suppressing a wry smile. "Yes. And she will be safe there. Madam Lucille is fiercely protective when it comes to the treatment of her...charges. Do not fear. I have her explicit promise that no harm or advances of any kind will be made towards the girl," he said, turning up the tent flap. Then the Rivaini couldn't help pausing and glancing back at Alistair with twinkling, jestful eyes. "It was Grigor's idea, actually."

"Maker's breath!" sighed Alistair, following in mentor inside the tent.

* * *

.o0O0o.

* * *

Alistair could not believe his eyes.

Words failed the young Grey Warden and he wondered if he had somehow stepped into some kind of a dream the moment he entered Duncan's tent. He stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, at the girl. He remained rooted to the spot while Duncan walked over and sat on the chair next to her bedside.

Yes. It was her. The girl from the marketplace. How long had he scoured the marketplace for her after losing her in the crowd? Did she even remember him? How often had she haunted his dreams? But this was no dream. She was here. Now. In flesh and blood. The flowing dark hair. Those blue-flecked grey eyes that curiously peeked up at him from underneath a fringe of long dark lashes. That face with the overly generous blushing lips. Those lips turned up into a smile, a smile with a trick in it; a slow budding smile with a sudden luminosity and rapture of fulfillment.

His legs threatened to turn to mush beneath him. His fingers started to tingle and go numb; he flexed them several times. His heart pounded in his chest. So loud was the blood rushing in his ears, Alistair couldn't make out the words Duncan was speaking to her. He wondered if she had indeed cast some kind of spell over him. Alistair swallowed the lump in his throat. His words were barely more than a faint whisper:

"It's you."

* * *

_**AN:** So, what did everyone think of how things are coming along for Diora? And I really hate the whole amnesia soap opera cheesy drama stuff, so Diora's PTSD memory loss will not last longer than the next chapter. I promise! =) Also, if Duncan's voice sounds like chocolate covered rock candy, what do you think Alistair's sounds like? I personally think it's like apples dipped into caramel. It's blond, crisp, sweet, and whets the appetite! 100% yumminess. *hugs*_

_Coming up in the next chapter: Alistair escorts Diora to the follower camp; a dark reunion; and Diora faces down a dragon!_

_Reviews are always nice and greatly appreciated._


	6. Adventures in Ostagar

**__****I updated and reloaded this chapter on 6-12-2014 a couple of weeks after originally posting it. There were some things that I wanted to have happen in the next chapter that did not quite work out the way I had hoped, so I added some scenes to the second half of this chapter so that it will flow more smoothly with the upcoming Chapter 6. Sorry for any confusion!**

**__****AN pt1 (5-28-14): **_Hi, everyone! Thanks for dropping in, a__nd thank the Maker for Bioware, Dragon Age, and Alistair! Special shout out to those who have followed/faved/reviewed since the last update: jennifer hawke, ljyang, sakura lisel, athyrarose, mskate, and sanni973._

_**AN pt2:** As of newest update on 6-12-14, we have gained some more readers! YAY! Rox Malone, Lillystar610, Kira Tamarion, cbosw5, MissLizziebeth, Aerith the Evenstar, and QueenOfTheHobbits. *hugs* I appreciate everyone's support, and reviews are always nice, too! _

___For those new to BtRoR: A Girl in Ferelden, this is a high fantasy fairy tale, inspired by the adventures and romance of Dragon Age Origins._

**___Recap:_**___ Using an Eluvian, Uldred summoned modern-day girl Diora into Thedas to use her as a living sacrifice. Diora managed to escape Uldred's clutches by jumping back through the Eluvian, and she ended up in a cave in the Korcari Wilds. Duncan found her in the cave and brought her back to camp, where she has reunited with Alistair. Only, Diora can't remember ever meeting Alistair, since she's lost her memory!_

___***WARNING:** There's some psuedo-fluff at the beginning and sexually suggestive themes about halfway into the chapter. _

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Adventures in Ostagar**

Diora rustled around in a blue skirt that was at least six inches too long for her. The white blouse, with its short puffy sleeves and scooped neckline would not have been so bad if it actually stayed in place instead of sliding off her shoulders. Or was it designed to be an off-shoulder shirt? As if that wasn't punishment enough, she now had to contend with a tight upper bodice with an incredibly tedious enclosure system of hooks and laces. Squeezing herself into that tight, gold trimmed, crimson velvet bustier with the attached overskirt was proving to be quite the struggle. In a fit of frustration, she tossed the corset aside and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

This morning, Duncan had tried to jog her memory by laying out and showing her an array of clothing and personal articles that supposedly belonged to her, and just as she could not place a single one of those items then, she could not even recognize her own reflection now. The girl in the looking glass was a complete stranger to her. Who was she? How did she get to this place called Ostagar? Ferelden? Thedas? Why was she alone? Where were her friends and family? Or was her life as empty as friendless and loveless as it felt at the present? Surely her life was not so bleak, right? Yet the fear swam easily on the surface of her thoughts. When she tried to remember anything about her life, all she got was a flash of that mirror, followed by a chilling sense of dread and a sharp, splitting pain on her forehead right in between her eyes.

Wynne had told her earlier not to try and force herself to remember. It was impossible not to like the healer, who had been exceedingly kind to Diora and helped to soothe Diora's fears. If not for Wynne, Diora would probably still be hopelessly lost in a state of malaise on Duncan's bunk, which was how the young girl had spent most of the early morning after her shocking ordeal. The older woman had reassured Diora that her memories would come back. Diora recalled Wynne's words: "I have done what I can to heal your physical body, but it seems your emotional being, your spirit will take longer to heal. Sometimes, the mind may close itself off during that healing process, especially if you experienced a traumatic emotional experience. Do not fear, child, you will regain your memories in time. But you must be strong and continue to live your life, not wallow in your pain. That way, when your memories return, you will be strong enough to bear the burden. "

It had taken Diora most of the morning for her to feel comfortable around Duncan. She had the feeling that he was having trouble feeling at ease with her at first, too. It was odd, after all, that she had dreamt about him. '_I would feel creeped out, too, if someone I didn't know was dreaming about me, and then I ended up meeting them!' _Though each still did not fully trust each other completely, eventually, they had come to a mutual, unspoken understanding that neither meant to harm the other. Duncan had in his firm yet kind way, promised her his protection.

But what of that young man?

Alistair.

Diora felt her stomach flutter for the third time that day. What a strange and confusing feeling! The first time it happened was when Alistair first stepped into the tent and their eyes met. How handsome he had looked, just like a knight in that silver armor. Then he had abruptly requested a word with Duncan outside. Whatever they discussed outside, she had not been able to overhear, and it wasn't for lack of curiosity. The two men had returned shortly thereafter, upon which Duncan introduced her to Alistair.

During Duncan's brief introduction, Alistair had stared at her with an intense and rather unsettling look in his gentle light brown eyes. '_No, not exactly light brown eyes - more like a hazel, brown with flecks of gold and even green in them at times,' _Diora thought. Then her heart fair tripped over itself and her stomach fluttered for the second time when he gave her a quick, short bow and she heard the sound of his voice, crisp and warm all at the same time: "Pleased to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Diora."

_Lady Diora. _

Not only handsome, but chivalrous. Imagine that. His voice and the way he had spoken her name... How her heart had melted, like a scoop of soft vanilla bean ice cream melting atop a slice of warm apple pie. Diora had been so tongue-tied that she flushed and barely managed to stutter a quiet 'thank you.' She had no idea what it was about Alistair that caused these strange reactions in her. Duncan called Alistair 'a friend' and said he could be trusted. Even if Alistair was a friend who could be trusted, Diora didn't know whether to be happy or nervous when Duncan told her that Alistair was going to be escorting her to the follower camp that day.

* * *

.ooooo.

* * *

To passersby, Alistair appeared to be patiently waiting outside the tent while Diora changed into the clothing Duncan had found for her to wear. In truth, the young man could hardly contain his excitement, though the knowledge that she had no recollection of him dampened the initial thrill and pleasure he felt when he first saw her this morning. Still, never in Alistair's wildest dreams could he have imagined that the girl Duncan found in the Wilds was the same girl he had run into at Denerim six months ago. When Alistair had taken Duncan aside to share the story about his initial encounter with Diora, Duncan had advised against letting Diora know that she and Alistair had met six months ago, to avoid overwhelming her with too much information. Alistair was bursting with questions, but he knew that they would remained unanswered until Diora regained her memory.

The Grey Warden Commander sighed wearily and thoughtfully stroked his beard with his thumb and forefinger. Unfortunately, his meeting with her this morning had left his questions unanswered and yielded even more confusion about the girl's origins when he perused through her odd collection of personal belongings. He had realized earlier that allowing Diora to wear her own strange clothing would in fact draw too much attention to her. Duncan didn't want Diora to be mistaken for a deserter if she left for the follower camp while wearing armor. He certainly could not have her in mages' robes if the templars might be after her. Civilian clothing was harder to come by in the army camp. Luckily, one of Madam Lucille's girls here in camp had offered to sell some of her extra clothes. They would have to do for now until proper fitting armor or even perhaps ladies' attire could be procured for her from the follower camp.

And that was how the two men found themselves in the present situation, waiting outside the tent while Diora got dressed inside.

The flap to the tent lifted, and Diora awkwardly stepped outside. She fidgeted, bunching up the front of the skirt with one hand, the other pulling a dark brown wisp of hair back behind her hair. "I… I don't mean to be ungrateful, Duncan, but where did you ever find these clothes? I can't breathe. Or walk, I think."

Alistair couldn't tear his eyes from her. How could she be garbed in a doxy's dress, yet still appear so lovely, so pure? That picture of sensual innocence in pinkish-gray morning light was so unexpected that it instantly took on the quality of a dream. Her skin was positively translucent. The saturated dress hugged against her curves in all the right places. The shirt gently clung off her shoulders, while the red corset curved beneath and molded her perfectly round breasts, tightly cinched in her waist. The skirt effortlessly cascaded into a crumpled pool of royal blue at her feet. She stood still before him, her tensed, statuesque form the likeness of a virginal milkmaid drenched in loveliness.

Virgin though he might be, Alistair was certainly not completely innocent. In his dream, Alistair's fingers caressed the graceful curvature of her neck and explored the creamy swell above the scooped neckline. He nuzzled the hollow at her neck, kissed a trail across those dainty collar bones with his lips before nibbling gently on those delicate shoulders. He gathered her into his arms in all her beauty and ...

Of its own accord, Alistair's manhood sprang to life and strained uncomfortably against his chainmail. Bloody Maker, what was wrong with him?! This was Duncan's ward! Duncan trusted Alistair with Diora's well-being, which did not include being some kind of drooling lecher. While he could not deny his attraction to Diora, Alistair did not and could not want to want her. And certainly not here, while he was standing in the middle of camp, surrounded by people, and in front of Duncan, for Andraste's sake! Tiny beads of sweat popped up on Alistair's forehead and the nape of his neck. He tried to rein in his desire by mentally reciting the Chant. '_These truths the Maker has revealed to me: As there is but one world, one life, one death, there is but one god, and He is our Maker. They are sinners, who have given their love to false gods...'_

"What say you, Alistair?" Duncan, who had been silently reevaluating the decision not to have Diora in leather armor, turned to ask for the younger Grey Warden's opinion and then did a double take. Well, the look on Alistair's face certainly spoke volumes. The young man's eyes were fairly eating up the young woman. Duncan didn't know whether to chuckle or be horrified. He cleared his throat and nudged the younger Grey Warden. "Close your mouth, Alistair, do. And blink," he whispered underneath his breath.

But Alistair didn't, and he couldn't stop staring, either. When Duncan finally got Alistair's attention, the young man shook his head and firmly said, "No, Duncan. These clothes will absolutely not do."

Duncan found the situation slightly amusing. This _was_ Alistair, after all, and Duncan did have a soft spot for the young lad. If it had been another Grey Warden - Grigor, for example - gawking at Diora, Duncan's reaction would be quite different. "This way, she'll blend right in with Madam Lucille's girls," he said, lips twitching beneath the dark beard. Just because Duncan was the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden did not mean that he lacked a sense of humor, he just didn't have the luxury of showing it often.

Alistair shot Duncan an incredulous look. "Blend right in - Maker's breath, Duncan! You can't be serious! There's already been too much speculation about her, she'll cause a scene walking around here dressed like that. I can't take her out there like that."

Diora decided to cause a scene right at that moment. "Guys, I'm right here, you know! Stop talking about me like I'm not! Doesn't _MY_ opinion matter? After all, _I'm_ was the one who has to wear this, so my opinion should be the most important, shouldn't it?!" she snapped at them, blatantly annoyed. She pursed her pink lips and exhaled loudly through her nostrils. Sure, it wasn't a ball gown or anything fancy, and she hated the dress, but Diora was more irritated by Alistair's fuss over her appearance and his obvious reluctance to be seen with her. Did he think himself too good for her? She masked her miffed pride with an imperious tone of voice as she regarded Alistair. "I hate these clothes, too, but it's the best Duncan could do and I won't argue with him about it. And I didn't think you were one to judge someone based on their clothes, Alistair. If you're too embarrassed to be seen with me, than perhaps Duncan can find someone else to take me to this follower camp."

Alistair stiffened when Diora addressed him. Maker! Her eyes burned soft and clear like a water opal, so telling when they filled with innocence, or fear, or even rancor. Far different from the icy, condescending looks he was used to receiving from noblewomen, or those calculating, lascivious stares from the women giving out sexual favors at Ostagar and Denerim. Surely other women could be considered more beautiful that Diora - Queen Anora, with her classic, sculpted marble features; perhaps even that wildling witch Morrigan, with her sharp, exotic allure; even several of the women here at camp. Yet Alistair was drawn to her like no other, now and even from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

Before Alistair could apologize, tell Diora that she had misunderstood, Duncan spoke up.

"I believe these clothes will do for the time being, then," Duncan stated resolutely. He was surprised. Judging from Diora's dispirited attitude this morning, he had not thought that the meek-looking girl would have some backbone. He was interested to see how she would change as her memories came back. Then to Alistair's dismay, he continued, "Alistair, if you prefer not to escort Diora to the follower camp, then perhaps I can ask Aedan-"

"Ask me what, Duncan?" a pleasant, well-spoken male voice called out. This was followed by the sound of an energetic "wruff!" from the four-legged creature trotting at its owner's side.

Diora whipped around at the sound of the voice - perhaps a bit too suddenly. She tripped over the skirt and found herself caught in the arms of yet another man. Like Alistair, he was also dressed in a metal chainmail armor. He was tall with wide shoulders, lean hips, long legs; perhaps a couple of inches taller and a bit lankier than Alistair. A thick light brown mane of shoulder length tendrils was tied back in a half ponytail. A long face with chiseled features. Laughing eyes of purest cornflower blue gazed into her own.

"My beautiful lady, forgive for being so forward, but please do not devastate me so early in the day by denying me the pleasure of your name," the blue-eyed stranger greeted Diora. He cast an admiring smile down upon her.

Diora blushed profusely. Heavens! If she considered Alistair to be very handsome, then this man was incredibly handsome. And Aedan had just paid her an amazing compliment when he called her beautiful, and she was still absorbing how nice it felt. The words 'friendly' and 'harmless' also came to her mind when she gazed at him. Easy going and pleasant, just like he sounded. She had a feeling she could deal well with him, unlike Alistair, who made her feel all sorts of unexplained emotions.

Alistair groaned silently to himself at this unanticipated intrusion. He couldn't help the knee-jerk spasm in his right eyebrow when Diora had stumbled into Aedan Cousland's arms. Alistair clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the pair. Not only had he lost his chance to make amends with Diora, he now had to compete with Aedan's charms.

"Aedan, this is Diora. Diora, this is Aedan," Duncan introduced them to one another. He then muttered something about 'hearts in the bloom of their youth' beneath his breath.

"Ah! So you're girl Duncan found whom everyone has been speaking of," Aedan remarked. Standing next to Aedan, an impressive, sinewy mastiff hound with a black snout and tawny coat studied Diora with remarkably intelligent eyes Its ears perked up and it cocked its head slightly up at her. Then, to Diora's surprise, it snorted happily and started bounding up and around her in circles. Aedan laughed, holding the hound back by the collar. "And this here is Skylos. You must excuse his rude manners, My Lady. Skylos has this particular fondness for seeking out exceptionally beautiful women and gets excited like this when he finds one."

Diora laughed. It was a sweet, lilting melody that caused sparks to shoot through Alistair's stomach, into his loins, through his fingers and toes. Alistair felt a twinge of jealousy flare up in him. He hated to admit it, but Aedan certainly had a way with the ladies.

* * *

.ooooo.

* * *

After a filling breakfast of coffee, eggs, bacon, and biscuits with jam, Diora, Alistair, Aedan, and Skylos - made their way through Ostagar. Duncan needed to meet with the Senior Grey Wardens before the war council, and Diora would likely not see him again for some time. Aedan would tag along with her and Alistair as far as the gate before joining Duncan at the war council. Diora had felt a rush of panic flare up within her as she said her good-byes to Duncan. She suddenly felt like a bird, learning to fly for the first time and leaving the safety of the nest. To the Grey Warden Commander's surprise, Diora had given him a quick hug before leaving, with a thank you and a promise to stay out of trouble.

As she walked, Diora marveled at her surroundings. The fortress of Ostagar was really an impressive and beautiful place. Massive white towers set against a majestic snow-capped glacial horn overlooked a steep gorge. Diora could not help running a hand along one of the marble statues as she walked by it. It felt smooth and sun-kissed beneath her hand. Off in the distance, a river wound about the verdant vale like a snake. Here and there, dots of water speckled the landscape. The lure of the aerial gales swept across the green valley and brushed through the bowing pine trees with howling song.

Unfortunately, despite the natural glory around Diora, it was impossible for her to ignore the signs of war. Diora cringed. During breakfast, Duncan had briefly explained the details of the war with the darkspawn - seriously, that word alone sounded evil and Diora hoped with all her heart she would never encounter one - and the role of the Grey Wardens. Duncan said battle was imminent, which was why Alistair was accompanying her to the follower camp, where it was safer for her. War was a terrifying thought, and it was invading all of her senses. Off in the distance, Diora saw men and women who practiced throwing spears at targets. She heard the clinging and clanging of metal blades as the soldiers sparred with one another to her left. On her right, a row of archers plucked away at their bows, testing their shooting skills. A group of warriors painted a pungent smelling paint on their dogs. The scent of paint, burning campfires, dust, and oiled leather permeated in the air.

Diora had her skirts bunched up high in front of her so that she would not trip over it as she walked. Aedan walked beside her. Aedan and Diora engaged in easy small talk consisting of the weather, nature, and the smell of the place. From time to time, Skylos pattered ahead of the group until he disappeared. Then the mabari circled back through the crowd of people and caught its master unaware from behind with a playful nudge of the nose. Skylos played this game several more times, each time alternating between tagging Aedan and Diora.

Alistair, with Diora's satchel slung over his shoulder, skulked behind, unhappily wondering about the turn of events. Since when had Aedan and Diora become so chummy with each other? And what was Skylos up to, with that game of his? Was the mabari trying to play matchmaker? No, a mabari was smart, but it could not be _that_ smart, right? Worse, Diora had not spoken a word to Alistair since she made that comment about him not escorting her to the follower camp, much less even look in his direction. Alistair was still trying to figure out exactly what it was he had said that offended her so. He hoped Diora was not planning on giving him the silent treatment all day, that would make for an incredibly unpleasant trip. _'Once we part ways with Aedan, I'll apologize to her,'_ he thought.

_CRACK!_

The resounding clap of a swinging whip broke the ambient buzz and drone of soft conversation, barking dogs, ringing metal, and strummed bows. And continued, accompanied by the cries of a man, the intake of breath from a crowd.

The group of three plus one dog slowed as it approached a small crowd circled around the scene of a man whipping a crumpled figure on the ground. Diora paused, with Alistair and Aedan stopping next to her.

"Is that... an _elf?_" Diora asked no one in particular. Her mind wrestled with the perplexing thought that elves couldn't possibly exist, yet there was one of them in front of her. Her amnesia must be affecting her worse than she thought. She winced when a young man with a cruel mouth lashed out again on the elderly elven male who was crawling on the ground. She listened in on the hushed whispers around her.

_"What was his crime?"_

_"He tried to defend his daughter from one of Arl Urien's men."_

A dumpy woman with lackluster mousy brown hair standing next to the group quietly filled them in on the details. "That elf is being punished for striking at a human, who he claims attempted to assault his daughter. When Lord Vaughan heard about it, he went into a rage."

"Lord Vaughan... Arl Urien's son," said Aedan, clenching his fists. "Nasty son-of-mother. Treats his dogs better than his servants, and he hates elves."

"Apparently," Alistair commented. His eyes hardened building anger and disgust.

"Why would this Lord Vaughan punish the victim's father!?" Diora exclaimed. "What about the accused?"

"What lord would take the word of an elf over the word of human?" was the woman's response.

"My father would have," Aedan replied bitterly, the memory of his parents' deaths still fresh on his mind. "He treated all of our people fairly, whether they were human or elves."

"Then your father was a better man than most," Alistair said quietly. Duncan had told Alistair about the attack on Highever that happened the night Aedan had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. Alistair had never lost anyone close to him, but having figuratively been an orphan himself for just about his whole life, Alistair understood a little bit the hurt and hollowness and anger Aedan must be going through right now.

"You mean, elves don't have the same rights as humans," Diora stated. "Then, in this case, what would have happened if it was a human female who had been attacked and not an elven female? Or if a human had reported the offense? Would the accused have been questioned and brought to justice?"

"Why, of course!" nodded the woman.

Diora felt a righteous fury swell up in her chest. "What's was wrong with this crowd?! How could everyone just stand by and knowingly watch an innocent be punished for coming forward and reporting a crime?!" _'I might have amnesia, but I still have my sense of decency!' _Diora knew that what was happening to the elf was wrong, but she did not realize that the set of 21st century code of morals and ethics, civil rights, and equality for all imbued in her did not exactly line up with those of the world into which she had been swept.

"A lord has the right to punish his servant as he pleases, even if bystanders might not agree to how the punishment is dealt," said Aeden.

"But if that elf is innocent...! Can't you guys do something?! Aren't Grey Wardens supposed to protect the innocent?" Diora cried, her voice rising an octave as the whip whistled down and lashed again.

_CRACK!_

_"Let this be a lesson to you, elf! Your place is to serve without question, not bother me with your meddlesome daughter's problems. If you accuse one of my men again...!"_

_CRACK!_

"Diora, it is not a Grey Warden's place to interfere with the dealings of the nobles or politics," Alistair replied, repeating the words Duncan had said so often. "We should just go."

"I can't believe you guys!" Diora hissed, her voice seething with disbelief and disappointment.

Just then, a lithe, elven woman with short red hair and warm brown eyes broke through the small gathering of people. She had tears streaming from her eyes. She fell on her knees to the ground next to the elderly elf. "Please, My Lord! If you must punish anyone, punish me! Do not punish my father, I beg of you!"

"No, Nessa! What are you doing?!" cried her father.

Diora saw Lord Vaughan smirk and raise his arm back, gearing for another powerful blow.

For Diora, this was the last straw.

"STOP IT!" Diora screamed.

Vaughan's arm paused. He glanced around, his cold eyes narrowing as they scanned the silent crowd. "Who said that?"

Diora took a deep, angry breath and mustered up her courage. She wormed out of Alistair's hold on her arm and ignored Aedan's warning to stay put. She gathered up her skirts and pushed forward through the crowd. She stepped into the small circle, placing herself in between Vaughan and the pair of elves. "I did!" she declared.

"Please, miss! What are you doing? Leave, before Lord Vaughan punishes you, too!" whispered the elven woman, waving her away.

Vaughan, arm still raised, narrowed cold, gleaming eyes at the human girl who dared to go up against him. "What's this? You dare to stand up to me? Do you have any idea who I am?"

Diora's stormy eyes locked with Vaughan's narrowed, gleaming glare. "Whoever the hell you are, you've done enough for today. Save your wrath for the darkspawn. Just go, leave them be."

A collective gasp went through the throng of people. By this time, those who had previously been going about their business now stopped to see what the ruckus was all about. The growing crowd continued to gather, stunned by this human who had burst out of nowhere to protect a pair of elves. Some admired her courage, others shook their heads at her stupidity. But all marveled at this strength of character the unknown girl displayed that was at the same time beautiful and mesmerizing.

Alistair thrust Diora's satchel into Aedan's arms. "Take this, I've got to go and get her before she makes it worse!"

At the same time, Duncan, who had been making his way to the North Tower, noticed the growing group of people in the distance. As he neared, he caught a glimpse of Aedan and Skylos in the back of the crowd and Alistair frantically moving through it, and no Diora in sight. He groaned with dread. A part of Duncan just knew that Diora was somehow involved. He broke into a run.

"You bitch-born whore, if you love them knife-ears so much, then you can suffer with them!" Vaughan's arm descended.

_'Oh, SHIT! I didn't think he would actually-!'_ Diora squeezed her eyes shut and cringed, curling her shoulders around, bracing for the -

_CRACK!_

But the blinding flash of pain Diora had expected to feel across her body never came.

Instead, a pair of strong arms had enveloped her in a tight embrace. Diora heard someone's ragged breathing beside her own. Felt the scruff of a day's worth of stubble scratch lightly across her forehead. She opened her eyes and gasped.

Alistair's armor and the shield strapped on his back had deflected the force of the whip as it lashed across him, but the tip of the whip had licked up across the left side of his face. He could already feel the stinging welt rising up beneath his left eye. A few drops of blood oozed down his cheek. Holy Maker, that had hurt! A part of him was even vain enough to hope it would not scar. It probably wouldn't, if he got it to a healer instead of letting it heal on its own.

"Alistair...! OHMIGOD!" Diora was horrified. He had gotten hurt because of her! A tremulous, heaving sigh parted from Diora's lips. He stared at her with a pained expression, and her earlier resentment for him melted away in an instant, to be replaced by a plethora of unexplained, aching, emotions that surged up from deep within her. Why did seeing him that way hurt her so? She blinked back unbidden tears. She suddenly wanted to hide her face from him, but her hands were still trapped between their bodies. Instead, she buried her face into his chest. "You're so stupid! Why did you do that?" she whispered in a sobbing voice.

"Of all the reactions I had imagined from you, 'you're stupid' was not one of them," Alistair whispered endearingly into her hair. It felt soft and silky beneath his lips. His heart swelled with relief that he had gotten to her in time to shield her from the blow.

_"His shield! A griffon! He's a Grey Warden!"_

_"If that's a Grey Warden, then the girl! Could she be...!"_

_"The Warden Commander's ward!"_

_"I think she is! A beauty with long, dark hair! It must be her!"_

_"Is she the one they found in the Wilds? Found without a stitch of clothing on, I heard."_

_"Must be why she's dressed in 'em streetwalker's togs."_

Vaughan's eyes skittered nervously across the whispering crowd. He, like everyone else at Ostagar, had heard the rumors of the Grey Warden's new ward. He knew that the king held the Wardens in high regard, and he even began to wonder if he would be reprimanded for attempting to strike this girl, if she was the mysterious ward.

"What's going on here?" Duncan asked, the crowd parting for him as he purposefully rushed over to Alistair and Diora. He looked on disapprovingly at the wound on Alistair's face. His eyes moved over to Diora, who appeared shaken if unharmed, and then down to a red-headed elven girl who was sitting on the ground and clutching a half-unconscious elf - her father, perhaps? - with raw gashes criss-crossing his body.

"Your Warden and that bloody chit there interrupted the punishment of my servant," Vaughan replied.

Duncan recognized the nobleman holding the whip as Arl Urien's son, Vaughan Kendells. While Arl Urien was considered a just man, his son was known for his cruelty and sadism. Unfortunately, Arl Urien's health had been declining for quite some time, so the arl had sent Vaughan in his place to lead his men at Ostagar. "Alistair, is this true?" Duncan questioned the younger Grey Warden.

Before Alistair could respond, Diora stepped up from behind him. "No, it's not true. I was trying to stop him from flogging an innocent man!"

"You little bitch! You dare!" hissed Vaughan. He took a menacing step towards her, but jumped back when Skylos leapt forward, barking and growling at him.

"I do!" Diora defiantly stood her ground. It helped that Skylos stood between her and that hateful man, and that she had Alistair, Duncan, and now Aedan standing beside her.

"Bad boy, Skylos, growling at the mean man. That's enough now," Aedan said, his silky voice full of sarcasm.

"Well, then," said Duncan, quietly assessing the situation over. Despite his aggravation of having to get involved with this issue, he knew Diora had acted with a good heart, which he very much admired. She had courage to stand up for others as well as herself, which impressed Duncan. "It seems my ward has been unreasonable -"

"But-!" exclaimed Diora.

Duncan held up a hand to silence her. He continued, "She _has_ been unreasonable; therefore, please accept my humble apologies on her behalf." Then he pulled out a small leather pouch of jingling coins. "For your trouble here, perhaps I can offer to take these unruly servants off your hands. I think you will find this more than sufficient to cover your loss."

Vaughan glared back at Duncan. He had at first reveled at the victory of receiving an apology, only to realize that the Grey Warden Commander had bested him. How could he say no to the Warden Commander? He knew now that the story of this incident would spread like wildfire, especially now that the Grey Warden Commander was involved. However it played out, he would look the fool. That girl! She had caused him public embarrassment and was now going to cost him two servants!

"Take the bloody elves if you want them so badly, but keep your coin!" he spat.

"Thank you, my lord," Duncan stated.

Diora breathed a sigh of relief as Vaughan and his men turned around and walked away. Now that the show appeared to be over, the crowd that had gathered was slowly dispersing as well, whispering excitedly over the scene they had just witnessed and speculating over the Grey Wardens' new ward. Diora dropped to here knees next to Nessa. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, miss! You must surely be sent by the Maker himself!" breathed Nessa, looking up at Diora.

"Take your father to the mage encampment. There is a healer there by the name of Wynne. Tell her Duncan sent you," Duncan told. "I will be there shortly, after I have a word with the others here."

"Yes, ser," nodded Nessa. She helped her father to his feet, and the two of them staggered in the direction of colorful tents in a cluster of green pines.

When Nessa and her father were out of earshot, Duncan turned back and sternly faced his motley crew. "Lady's breath, would someone please care to explain how I just ended up with two elven servants?" he demanded.

Skylos barked.

"Not you, Skylos, he means us," Aedan told his mabari. "We don't speak mabari, boy."

Diora and Alistair broke into fits of giggles. Then Alistair winced and gingerly poked at the jagged welt on his cheek.

Duncan rolled his eyes.

* * *

.ooooo.

* * *

Amongst the pine trees in front of the mage encampment, Uldred observed the exchange in front of him. He had been unable to believe his eyes at first.

That girl.

Here. In Ostagar. No longer illusive. Tangible.

Uldred thought he had lost her forever when she escaped into the Eluvian at the freehold. And ever since, his damned Eluvian at the Circle Tower had refused to work for him. He could no longer commune with Ishmael, the Ancient One in the Fade. He had practiced dark blood magic with his Eluvian. Uldred suspected that when she passed through the Eluvian that night, she had cast a spell to seal it with light blood magic. At that time, his own Eluvian had been connected with the Eluvian that she had passed through, so the spell had transferred to his own as well. Whatever spell she had cast, it could only be undone with her blood and with light magic.

But this would require some thought. The girl now had the protection of the Grey Wardens. Uldred didn't want to be hasty and mess it up again.

One way or another, he would would have her blood…!

* * *

_**AN:** So, what did you think, dear readers? I want to know! Reviews are always nice =)_

**_Preview for Chapter 6:_**_ On a dark and stormy night, Diora will regain her memories and face down a dragon...__  
_


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